


The Ones Where Logan Lives

by cattyk8, Chikabiddy, CubbieGirl1723, EllieBear, Irma66, jmazzy, kmd0107, Marshmellow Bobcat (MellowBobcat), MrsKissyT



Series: Logan Lives [1]
Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Logan Lives, Season 4 fixes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-12-27 09:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 66,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21116870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattyk8/pseuds/cattyk8, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chikabiddy/pseuds/Chikabiddy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubbieGirl1723/pseuds/CubbieGirl1723, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieBear/pseuds/EllieBear, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irma66/pseuds/Irma66, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmazzy/pseuds/jmazzy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmd0107/pseuds/kmd0107, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowBobcat/pseuds/Marshmellow%20Bobcat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsKissyT/pseuds/MrsKissyT
Summary: Eight authors.  36 fanfics.  One fic posted every day starting in November, all with the same mission:save Logan Echolls.





	1. The One Where Keith Gets Bad News by Marshmallowbobcat

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185100680@N02/48937483717/in/dateposted-public/)   

> 
>   
It's a fairly well-accepted opinion that many, many people in the Veronica Mars fandom found Season 4 to be an unmitigated disaster. From Veronica's complete change of characterization to the terrible mystery to the horrifying end, VM 2019 met the needs of very few. The urge to fix ran wild. 
> 
> In August, a group of friends/fanfic writers began to talk about all the ways that virtually ANYTHING would have been an improvement over the ending we got. While Logan's death is certainly not the only problem with Season 4, it does seem to be the deal-breaker for most of us. With that in mind, our focus became ways to make Logan live, one a day, for the month of September. Unfortunately, September was a little ambitious so our target became November, and here we are. 
> 
> What follows are 35 separate stories, each an individual chapter in what we've dubbed, 'The Ones Where Logan Lives'. There are a lot of different ideas, some with changes early in the season, others near the end. Some are wacky, some are serious, and you'll even find a few cross-overs thrown in for good measure. Be advised, not all end in a traditional 'happily ever after'; a few have only the dimmest hope of any future LoVe at all, but our goal here wasn't to fix the whole season, just the fact of Logan's untimely demise. (We did manage to NOT blow Veronica up in Logan's place, although we confess, that was a tempting idea at times.)
> 
> All of the art for this project - including the lead-up designs and cover graphics for each story - was created by the talented JMazzy. 
> 
> A Spotify Playlist to go with this collection can be found here:  
[bit.ly/theoneswhereloganlives](http://bit.ly/theoneswhereloganlives)
> 
> We hope you enjoy the next month (or so) of daily posts where 'Logan Lives'. Please be sure to hit "subscribe" to this collection so you receive notice when we post an update.  
\----------------------------------------  
(It is necessary for us to point out that Rob Thomas owns these characters...we just don't think he should be allowed to play with them anymore...)  


“Test results got delivered to Big Dick's, your billing address. I hope it's good news, Keith. I'll see you around.”

With that, Clyde walks out Keith’s office. 

Sitting back in his chair, Keith blows out a breath. 

_ Some good news, on this, the day of his daughter’s wedding. _

But the joking thought doesn’t keep his hands from shaking. 

Breaking the seal on the envelope, he scans the results, then rests his forehead on the cool oak desk. And starts to sob. 

* * *

He sits, eyes glazed over, until voices echo through the Mars Investigations office, tunneling through his crowded thoughts. 

He hears the words, gleans the emotion behind them, but the meaning doesn’t register. 

“How could he miss our wedding?” _ Angry. _

“Veronica, calm down.” _ Soothing_. 

“Logan, what if he’s—” _ Scared. _

_ Scared. _

“Let’s just open the door and see.” 

_ Scared_.

The door swings open and Keith lifts his head to peer at his daughter and Logan. 

_ His beautiful daughter. Scared. _

“Dad?” Veronica stands next to the desk and waves a hand in front of his face. 

_ Six months. 180 days. What’s 180 days? _

“What’s going on, old man?” 

_ Nothing. Nothing compared to the years, decades he thought he had left. _

“Veronica.” Logan places a warning hand on her white-clad shoulder. 

_ She looks so beautiful in that dress. _

_ She should wear dresses more often. _

“Keith.” 

_ Logan. _

_ It’s his job now. Pass the torch. Circle of life. There’s probably a Cheap Trick song about it. _

“Keith, everything okay?”

Logan knows the answer already, it’s in his voice. Written on his face. He’s asking the question so Veronica can hear it. 

And he’s placed himself behind her, wrapped his arms around her, so he can catch her if she falls. 

_ His job now. _

_ 180 days. _

Keith glances down at the letter in front of him and Veronica snatches it before anyone can stop her. 

Keith meets Logan’s measured gaze and the comprehension there focuses him. 

“No.” Veronica is firm, unyielding. 

_ 180 days. It’s almost worse than a quick death. _

“No,” she repeats, tossing the paper to the floor. 

_ 180 days of denial. _

“Honey—”

“Stop. Don’t.” 

_ 180 days of anger. _

“We fight this. We see a specialist.”

_ 180 days of bargaining. _

“I’ve seen the best. This is it, honey.” 

“Daddy.” Veronica’s voice breaks on a sob. 

_ 180 days of depression. _

Keith rises to go to her but Logan is already there, turning her in his arms, holding her closer, stroking her hair while she cries into his shoulder. 

Keith pauses, just out of reach. _ His job now. _

Veronica pulls away, holds a hand out for Keith. And the windows explode.

_ Heat. _

_ Pain. _

_ The smell of blood. _

Logan throws his body over Veronica, knocking her to the floor, and the world tilts as Logan's fingers grasp Keith’s pant leg, dragging him down with them. 

“Stay down,” Logan orders. “Everyone okay?” 

“Yeah.” Keith drags himself by the elbows, belly scraping over glass, to where Logan lays on top of Veronica as he scans the room. 

“Logan, get off of me.” 

Logan looks down. “Stay with your dad, okay?” The reverent hand he uses to brush her hair off her face has just the slightest tremor. “Just stay down.” 

Keith struggles up, leaning his back against the desk as Logan sits, shaking off some of the shrapnel, and walks on his knees to the window. 

“Dad.” 

Logan did a good job shielding her, she doesn’t have a scratch on her, the dress is still a pristine white. 

_ So beautiful. _

“Daddy.” 

Keith opens his arms and she crawls into them, sobbing. 

_ Maybe his job a little longer. _

Holding her close, Keith looks over her head to Logan, who is staring out the window, face grim. 

“Logan?”

Logan hesitates, giving Veronica a worried frown as she begins to quiet.

“What is it, son?” Keith prods.

“Our—” Logan takes a deep breath. “Our car blew up.” 

A moment of shocked silence, then Veronica’s hiccuping breaths give way to crazed laughter.

“Veronica? Honey?” Keith pulls away to study her face.

Logan comes over to sit next to them, placing a worried hand on her back. 

“‘Midway ‘round Figi,’” she gasps. “The cussing pizza boy.” 

Then she flings herself at Logan. 

“Shhh. It’s okay,” he mutters as he catches her, rocks her. “We’re okay.” 

Keith watches, heart clenched..._ his job now... _and accepts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely where I thought the season was going. I could have lived with it, I could have gotten over it. I would have rallied for a Season 5.
> 
> The moral of the story: We could have lived with Keith dying, Rob.
> 
> \---------------------------------
> 
> P.S. Don't forget to 'subscribe' to this work to get notified when it updates. :)


	2. The One Where Veronica Can't Read A Road Sign by EllieBear

“Excuse me, driver, but do you have any Grey Poupon?”

“Har-har-har,” Keith snarks, glancing into the backseat of his car. “I’m _ only _ your wedding chauffeur by circumstance, not by choice.”

Veronica shrugs, sliding over towards Logan seated beside her and he wraps his arm around her shoulder, gently kissing her forehead. “It was an honest mistake, honey.”

“I can’t believe they towed me while we got married,” she mutters for the hundredth time. “I mean, seriously, the parking in Neptune is completely out of hand. And who understands those twenty-four hour clock numbers on the parking signs anyway…I mean, besides _ you_.” 

She jerks her thumb towards Logan and he chuckles, pulling her body closer to his.

“I’m just glad we finally figured out that the car was towed and not stolen. I still think it’s the universe’s way of saying we should take our time leaving for our honeymoon. We can worry about getting the car out of the impound lot tomorrow morning. For now, your dad can drop us off at home, he can take Pony, we can pack, maybe get some other things_ done_…” Pausing, he catches Veronica’s eye and wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“I saw that!” Keith states, frowning at them through the rearview mirror. “I know you guys are married now, but come on, give your old man a break with that stuff.”

“Hey! Keep mouthing off and there’ll be no tip for you,” Veronica teases as she wraps her arms around Logan’s neck and kisses his cheek. “And keep your eyes on the road. There’s nothing to see back here.”

Giving her a quick peck on the lips, Logan wrinkles his nose. “Eh…I think I’ll pass on the making out in the back seat of your father’s car. Even in high school we didn’t do that.”

“No, it was the back of _ your _car and…”

“Lalalalala! I can’t hear you!” Keith sings out loudly, pressing his fingers into his ears.

“Hey! I didn’t end up pregnant. And you mostly knew where I was sometimes.”

Removing his fingers from his ears, Keith glares at her. “Hardly comforting considering both your high school and college years.”

“Oh come on...try and remember the good times.” He starts the car and Veronica laughs, reaching for the center seatbelt. “I think the last time you had Logan and I together in your back seat was after you picked us up from Lilly’s house after Homecoming.”

Settling back, Logan places his hand behind his neck, smiling up at the roof of the car. “Wow. Yeah. We should have borrowed a police cruiser from in front of City Hall instead, just for old times’ sake.”

Veronica snickers at the memory of her dad driving her and Logan home—two drunk teenagers—exhausted yet somehow still wired from partying on the beach with Duncan and Lilly all night. Logan in his borrowed tux, smelling sweet and pungent of dried champagne, her in her pink dress, soaked in Lilly’s flowery perfume trying to cover the smell of her own vomit from just hours before.

“Not to put any pressure on you two, but I really, really hope you are contemplating having kids,” Keith says with a laugh. “Because I would like to see some karmic payback for all you both have put me through over the years.”

Cringing, Veronica avoids Logan’s eyes. “Jumping the gun a bit there, aren’t ya, Dad? I mean, Pony has _ not _expressed any interest in having a sibling yet.”

“I’m all for just practicing,” Logan whispers, leaning near Veronica’s ear and giving her a gentle kiss on her jaw.

“I heard that!” 

“Sorry, Keith.”

Sitting up straight, Logan gives Veronica a sly wink and she smiles, letting out a contented sigh as she leans her head against his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she takes a moment to revel in the giddiness fluttering in her stomach. They were married. And it only took them seventeen years to get here.

Her purse starts to hum, jarring her from her moment and she opens her eyes to root through the contents for her phone. Frowning at Leo’s name on her screen, she connects the call.

“Hey, Leo. What’s up?”

_ “Hey, Veronica. So, I have good news and bad news.” _

Pursing her lips, Veronica glances at Logan, changing the phone to her other ear so he can hear the conversation.

“Okay. What is it?”

_ “The good news is we found the final bomb Penn planted. The bad news is that it was in your car and it detonated in the impound lot. The lot manager said you got your car towed there this afternoon?” _

A chill runs through Veronica. She was driving around with a bomb in her car. A bomb that could have gone off while she was inside. Or while Logan was inside. Or Pony. Or all of them…

“Oh my God,” she mutters, frozen in shock as her brain runs through all the variables of what could have happened.

Taking the phone from her, Logan nods, placing it to his ear. “Hi Leo—it’s Logan. It seems that Veronica is a little taken aback by your news. Was anyone hurt?”

_ “One of the guys on the lot was injured but not badly—more shook up than anything.” _

“Well, that’s good news. Guess we’ll be heading out on our honeymoon in a rental car then.”

Leo clears his throat through the phone and Veronica glances up at Logan, his cheeks twitch as he tries to suppress a grin, a twinkle of that mischievous jackass she fell in love with gleaming in his eye.

_ “Honeymoon?” _

“Oh? Veronica didn’t tell you about our plans? Yeah…the car was towed while we were getting married inside City Hall this afternoon. Pesky street cleaners.”

Taking the phone from Logan’s grasp, Veronica wrinkles her nose at him, mouthing the words “stop it” before putting the phone up to her ear again.

“Hey Leo—Veronica again. Thanks for letting us know. Text me if you need anything in the next few days.”

_ “Uh, yeah. Travel safe. And congratulations.” _ Leo’s words sound defeated, his inflection killing all enthusiasm he may have been trying to gather.

“Thanks. Take care.”

Disconnecting the call, Veronica tosses the phone in her purse, her pulse still racing as her father pulls up to the front steps of their apartment. Logan slides his hand over hers, threading his fingers through hers and she glances down to see her wedding ring peeking out between their entwined hands.

“Are you okay?”

Veronica nods, focusing back on her husband next to her. “Yeah. I’m fine.”


	3. The One With The Ghost and Penn Epner by MrsKissyT

“Dammit!”

Though the hard thwump he made when he tripped over himself and hit the ground hurt like a mother—totally on purpose, of course—Penn knew it was worth it to make his cunning plan work. 

In what he now thought of as ‘classic V-Mars style’, the blonde walking in front of him let out an exasperated sigh before swinging around, smirking at his current (and very uncomfortable) position

“_What._ _Now_?” she snapped. It took everything he had to not let the giddiness he felt getting that rise out of her show. 

“What does it look like? I’ve fallen...and I can’t get up…” he deadpanned, stealing a quick glance at Keith, who looked surprisingly sympathetic. 

Not feeling anything from Veronica’s end, he sighed loudly, putting his drama skills to use. Hamming up the struggle as he attempted to push himself up and onto his feet, Penn was shocked when he saw Keith extend his arm to help, but after the man gave him a stern nod, he took hold of it to right himself.

“My laptop. I need...” He groaned, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. Peeking through his fingers, he caught a look of concern, however slight, flash across Veronica’s face. It was all he needed to know this would work.

“I need it, my laptop. But my leg, it _ hurts. _ All of my information about the bombings is on it, along with the research I’ve done trying to decipher the limericks. If you want my help, I’m gonna need all of it.” He bluffed with confidence, knowing full well that she had no idea he didn’t need a thing. 

“And how do you know about the limerick, exactly?” the elder P.I. questioned. Keith Mars was too observant for his own good, as far as Penn was concerned.

“Oh, _ come on, _ you two. Murderheads, remember? If evidence is gathered, we’ll know about it.”

Unable to argue with that, Keith nodded and shrugged at his daughter. “The man has a point,” he conquered. “So, where is your laptop?” 

Pleased that his plan to distract the pair worked, Penn smiled as he pointed back towards the basement. 

“Locked away in the safe by my bed. Password is 737637.” 

Giving him an unimpressed look, Veronica huffed as she shook her head. “Seriously? Your safe code is your name? Even for you, that seems too obvious.”

“Hey, if they’re dumb enough to rob me, they’re too stupid to think it could be that simple.” He shrugged, subtly glancing at Keith for approval 

Taking a step towards him, Keith placed his hand firmly on his shoulder. “I think it’s best if you go wait in the car,” he said, squeezing it a little too hard for his liking, before turning away.

He smiled to himself when he heard her groan loudly, then two sets of footsteps retreated back towards the house. He patted the backpack strap he’d slung over his shoulder. Veronica Mars, the nosy bitch, had no idea what was coming to her. 

It was perfect, really. He’d already convinced them he was innocent. They were so set on ‘solving the case’—a win against the bureaucracy for Mars Investigations—that they’d grasped at anything remotely plausible that he’d thrown at them.

Waiting until he heard the door open, he quickly slipped into the unlocked car (_seriously, what kind of P.I. leaves their car unlocked?! _ ), placing the backpack next to him in the backseat and gently opening it to fuss with the timer, running his hand lovingly across the top. _ This _ bomb, the one that would put him in league with the likes of Kaczynski, was sure to make international headlines, and the final step of setting the countdown was the best part. Penn Epner: Mastermind—and no one, not even the other Murderheads, would ever be the wiser. It was _ perfect _. 

His self-congratulatory thoughts were interrupted when his ears suddenly popped and he glanced up from his treasure, startled by the change in air pressure. That surprise was nothing compared to the sight that greeted him. 

Seated beside him, in all her ethereal glory, was none other than Lilly Kane.

His initial response was disbelief. There was _no_ _way_ this was a scam, he was too smart for someone to pull one over on him. Was he hallucinating? Or was he really in the presence of something supernatural? 

Whatever it was, it was every Murderhead’s dream to get the chance to speak with a member of the most infamous (and yet somehow _ still _ in charge) family in Neptune, even a dead one—maybe _ especially _ a dead one—so he was going to roll with it.

And yet, as he gazed at the dead girl, sitting beside him in the same clothing she’d met her end in, Penn couldn’t help but wonder if this was not a call for celebration at all, but rather something much more sinister. Judging by the sneer the dearly departed Kane had on her face, he’d guess the latter.

Because _ of course _ it was. Heaven forbid should Penn _ ever _ get his moment.

Scratching his chin as he studied the gash on her head, he figured he might as well get whatever this was over with. A quick check out the window showed no sign of Keith or Veronica, so he cleared his throat and dove in.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit from the Great Beyond?” 

Flipping her hair and leaning forward menacingly, ghost!Lilly gave him a once over before staring straight into his eyes.

“I _ won't _ let you do this,” she growled, stabbing her finger on top of the armed bomb. He saw the device shift and, alarmed, he tried to slap her hand away, but his hand passed right through hers. 

Another ill-fated sign, Penn thought as he realized that this while this entity had corporeal capabilities, she couldn’t be touched. Clearing his throat nervously, he folded his hands onto his lap and leaned back. He’d have to tread lightly to avoid any irreversible accidents.

“I’m not _ doing _ anything. That, Ms. Kane, is my backpack which happens to have my tool kit for solving the crime, in the same way your former friend does these days.”

“I’m _ dead, _Penn Epner, not _ demented_,” she scoffed. Even in the face of his fear that a dead girl might ruin his plans, he couldn’t hide the grin that spread across his face, at the idea that she, _ Lilly Fucking Kane_, knew who _ he _ was.

“I know that you’ve been leading my best friend on a wild goose chase across Neptune, trying to slip one past her by misleading her at every opportunity. Don’t you know how capable she is? She figured out who killed _ me _ at sixteen! _ Sixteen_, old man.” 

Slightly offended, Penn scoffed and waved her off because of course he knew about that—he knew _ everything _ about that case. 

“Yeah, I do. And you know what? I could’ve solved it in half the time. It was obvious what had happened from the start. Unlike Sheriff Mars, who was too fixated on your daddy for the crime, I would’ve started at the Echolls estate, and worked my way from there. Scorned lover? The only twist was _which_ _one_,” he bragged.

He should have known better than to mock a dead person, especially when that person was known in her day for her malicious side. Her angry eyes met his, and he knew he was doomed.

_ Well, fuck. _

Unfortunately, it was his own stupidity that ultimately sealed the deal, and it all happened within seconds. Penn yanked the backpack towards himself, trying to get the device out of Lilly’s reach as she made a grab at it. Afraid she would somehow tamper with it enough that it wouldn’t work, he quickly moved his hand over the failsafe knob he’d added for himself, just in case.

Satisfied with his quick thinking, he smiled to himself knowing his plan would still go through. It was only when he glanced up at Lilly that he realized something was wrong. Her eyes were lit up by the giant grin across her face, her focus on the bomb in Penn’s hands, before she looked up at him, waved gleefully, then blinked away with that same pop of air pressure that she’d appeared with. Looking down, he immediately understood why she was smiling. 

He’d completely missed the failsafe.

Instead, he’d twisted clock on the timer from what _ should _ have been 5:00 pm, to 11:15 am, which, he realized with a quick glance at his watch, was fifteen seconds away. Eyes shooting up to the windows, he watched as Veronica and Keith came out of the basement, laptop in hand. Veronica’s eyes met his briefly, and he caught the perplexed look crossing her face before his focus shifted to the ethereal teen standing behind her, her hand held high as her fingers counted down.

_ 5… _

_ 4…. _

_ 3… _

_ 2… _

_ So much for ‘Penn Epner: Mastermind’. _

_ 1…. _


	4. The One Where Logan Showers by KMD0107

“You ready to tell me about why Clemmons was singing your heroic praises on the news?”

Veronica massages her scalp and considers what to tell her husband. _Husband,_ _yep, still happy with how that sounds._ She turns toward Logan where he lounges on their bed messing with his phone and decides to actually tell him. She takes a deep breath to start explaining her morning, but he starts to speak before she gets the chance.

"Sedona's main attraction is its array of red sandstone formations.”

She’s seen pictures but never in person. Their cozy, low-key honeymoon is sounding better and better by the second. Veronica steps over to the bed, leans over Logan and places a quick kiss on his nose. "Second thing we'll do once we get there,” she tells him softly before kissing his smiling mouth.

“It's a seven-hour drive. Out of here by six, get there around two in the morning,” he says as he leans up to meet her in another kiss. His hands grip her waist and twist her onto the bed, sending Veronica’s heart racing. But rather than roll onto her as she expects, Logan hops off the bed.

Veronica watches him walk away from her out into the little hall. Her brain is still fuzzy but something about what he’s said doesn’t sound right. Number sense—that podcast she listened to a while back had talked about it—that intrinsic sense of if a number is right or wrong. Veronica’s number sense was clanging an alarm. “That’s eight hours, Einstein,” she calls out after him.

“Plus one, ‘cause they’re on Mountain Time. Looks like I am Einstein.”

“Oh shit. You’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right, my sense of time and timing are in tiptop shape. Which I’ll be happy to demonstrate for you, after I take a shower.”

Veronica sits up and pushes herself off their bed. As she rounds the corner into the hall, she glimpses tan biceps flexing in the reflection off the mirror. It’s a physical strain to drag her eyes away, but she commands her reactions not her lusty-lusty hormones. The bzzt-bzzt of her phone does the trick and she walks on past the bathroom. On the counter her phone’s screen dims, and then lights up again with a fresh wave of vibration. She resists the urge to turn back to the bathroom and Logan’s Mission Impossible quality moves. Instead she picks up her phone and reads the text preview.

[Street cleaning]

“The real crime in this god forsaken place is the parking,” she says to the empty room. Her usual excuse is probably wolfing down human food at Grandpa's house, so she really is just talking to herself.

“Did you say something?” Logan calls out over the sound of the shower being turned on.

With a shake of her head, Veronica calls back, “Moving the car. Last thing we need is a ticket right before we leave.”

Keys in hand, Veronica heads for the door. She’s a little disappointed their conversation got sidetracked, but at the same time, this will give them plenty of material for the drive to Sedona. The seven-hour drive. There’s still something off about the arrival time. She’s halfway down the stairs when it hits her, _Arizona doesn’t do daylight savings time! _ Maybe if she was a different person, she’d just let it go, _I yam who I yam. _There’s something about embracing that, accepting who she is; she’s struggled with it since she came back. But if she can do it for the big stuff, like loving Logan, she can sure as hell do it for the little petty stuff like her inability to resist an ‘I told ya so.’ So, she busts her butt back up the stairs.

“Arizona doesn’t do daylight savings time,” Veronica yells, a little out of breath as she reenters the apartment.

The water shuts off. “What?”

“I said, Arizona doesn’t—” Veronica’s breath catches as Logan’s soapy chest and confused face come into view.

“Are you still going on about what time we’ll get to Sedona?” he asks, letting the shower curtain settle back into place. A moment later the water comes back on.

“Yes! Because you’re still wrong. Arizona doesn’t do daylight savings.”

“So, we’ll get there at 1:00 am.”

“Yes!”

“Then we’ll have an extra hour for you to explain your heroism.”

“Don’t you mean one less hour?”

“Nope, I’m holding onto two o’clock.”

Veronica leans back against the door frame; the buttons of her dress dig into her spine. She wonders what it is about their verbal sparring that gets her hot and bothered. _Maybe it’s time to embrace one of my other vices_.

Logan’s head appears around the curtain again. “Hey, where were you going?”

“Shit! The car. It’s street cleaning!” Veronica rushes to the bedroom to look out the window.

The world slows as a rain of glass slices through the air, thunder rocks the room, and an invisible wave sends Veronica flying back into the hall. Stinging pain and a dull throb steal her senses. Her vision blurs and wavers, first two Logans and then one, _the one_, comes into focus. His mouth moves but Veronica can’t hear over the ringing that makes her head throb. His hand takes hers, the pressure of him squeezing her hand keeps her present. She can feel the world speeding back up and pinprick pain of a thousand papercuts. Then a sound—_OK—_she can almost hear and definitely see. She nods her head carefully and lets Logan help her sit up.

“I lo—yo,” Logan says, his voice still wavering, and carefully pulls her into his chest. She rests her head there, not care about the soap that stings her cheek.

“I love you, too.”


	5. The One With The Swords by CattyK8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our first crossover of this collection merges the Highlander universe with Veronica Mars. In case you're not familiar with Highlander, the movie or the series, we've got some helpful terms to get you started.
> 
> Immortal: People who are immune to disease and aging after they become Immortal (after their first death); they live forever unless beheaded.
> 
> The Quickening: The release of energy from an Immortal upon his/her beheading. On the show it appears as a lighting/electrical storm, and the power and knowledge from the beheaded Immortal is absorbed by the nearest Immortal also present at the time—most likely the one who beheaded them.
> 
> The Buzz: A prickling at the nape of the neck and a surge of adrenaline that an Immortal feels when another Immortal is near. Range and intensity of the feeling depends on the age and power of the Immortals.
> 
> The Game: The battle between Immortals who fight and behead each other until only one remains.
> 
> WARNING: This is a collection of stories where Logan Lives. He absolutely does. However, we warned you at the beginning that not everything would end with LoVe a certainty. This is the first that meets that description. That doesn't mean they won't, so we hope you won't skip this chapter, but we just don't want there to be any dangerous surprises. We've lived through enough of those this year already.
> 
> TW: Description of severe bodily injury and major (if temporary) character death.

The Immortal sitting inside a carefully nondescript sedan watches the scene across the street, manicured fingernails digging into her palms in tension. The boy—he’s been a man for years now, but she can’t help thinking of him as a boy, given her long history—chats with his new wife as he walks toward the car. It is his wedding day, and she has just watched him exchange vows with the little blonde who’d held his fascination since they’d been children. The Immortal isn’t sure if the blonde is worthy of the boy’s devotion, but that could just be a mother’s overprotectiveness speaking.

Because once upon a time, the Immortal had graced the big and small screen as well as the covers of tabloids as the talented yet troubled Lynn Echolls. Or at least she had, until she’d felt the buzz of an ancient Immortal while sitting outside the principal’s office at her son’s high school.

She’d run; she’d never been much of a fighter. Other Immortals might behead each other for the sake of the Quickening, a transfer of power and knowledge to the nearest Immortal after another lost his or her head. But Lynn had always abhorred violence and avoided it as much as possible. Especially when it was directed at herself. And a part of her worried at what would happen with Logan, who wasn’t even Immortal yet, if another got close enough to see what he would become. 

She might be a coward, but she was at least a survivor, and she’d been a mother for sixteen years. The choice to run and hide hadn’t been the easiest decision, but it had been the only one she could make, in order to keep both herself and her son safe.

Even now, years later, her sword was practically unblooded, compared to other Immortals she’d come across. In nearly a century of existence, she’d only ever had two Quickenings to her name, and one of those had been for a Nazi officer who’d already been incapacitated after he’d stepped on a mine outside a little town in Austria. She’d beheaded him with the sense that she’d done the world a favor. Her other kill had been another Immortal nearly as green as she’d been.

So, as she’d listened to her husband threaten her and her son defend her, she’d felt the prickling sensation at the base of her neck, and then adrenaline had coursed through her, stronger than any she’d felt before. And it had grown steadily stronger, indicating the other Immortal had sensed her too and was heading her way.

She’d bolted. If the other Immortal hadn’t followed her, she would have returned home and feigned some sort of mental breakdown or tantrum. 

But he had followed her, and with such dogged persistence that she knew he must be after her head. She was a relative infant, to other Immortals, but there were those who didn’t care about things like that, who only wanted to rid the world of others like themselves in a bid for power. She’d left Neptune to escape the unknown Immortal all those years ago, and she hadn’t dared return for fear for her life.

Eventually realizing she would never get away from him on foot or in a car headed into San Diego’s traffic, she had stopped on the Coronado Bridge, climbed out and plunged. She’d died as she hit the water, then revived as the current pulled her out into the Pacific. 

She’d stripped off the clothes threatening to pull her down and tried to swim to safety, but she’d tired and drowned a few more times before awakening as she was pulled up into a fisherman’s boat off the coast of Mexico. The fisherman had thought her a mermaid and would have done anything she’d asked; he’d given her a spare set of clothes and left her on a beach by her request.

From there, she’d gone into hiding, although she’d made periodic trips to California to spy on her son, the boy she’d adopted as a newborn, a latent Immortal who’d been abandoned on the steps of a church in Italy, where she’d been traveling. A combination of bribes to a clinic and DNA testing facility and her own skills at acting had allowed her to persuade Aaron the baby was theirs; he’d been hinting at wanting a son, and she’d fallen for the babe the moment he’d been placed in her arms.

She’d kept her distance from him for nearly two decades, even though she’d hired people to watch him from afar. She’d been concerned when she’d learned he’d overdosed on drugs, and she’d been all set to whisk him away when a professor from the college he’d dropped out of had offered him a new lease on life.

And Logan had joined the Navy and become an aviator.

The woman who’d once been known as Lynn remembers telling her son about her own father, who’d been a pilot in the first World War. Of course, she’d changed her story, saying the boy’s grandfather had served in the Korean War, but the boy had so enjoyed those tales of heroism, and she’d found herself sharing more and more of them at his request.

The boy had grown up to serve his country himself. Was still doing so, as a naval intelligence officer—she wonders if that’s just a fancy word for spy. She’s known a few spies in her day, having served as an informant during World War II (which had resulted in the aforementioned quickening courtesy of an injured Nazi).

She wonders when the boy’s first death will be, if his being married now will complicate things.

And then it happens.

The world turns white, and her car rocks from the impact of the explosion. Her ears are still ringing when she opens her eyes to see her boy lying still on the road.

She knows she doesn’t have much time, so she pulls her car out of the spot where she’s parked it, across the street from his house. She stops right beside where he’s lying. She gets out, feels for a pulse. There is none, and parts of him are burned badly enough that she doesn’t expect one.

Later, later, she’ll have nightmares about the war, about corpses burned just as badly as his.

For now, she struggles to get his body into her car, heaving him onto the back seat, and then she gets back into the driver’s seat and drives to the marina, where she keeps a boat. She has friends in Paris who have shown her just how useful it can be to have a home on the water.

She’s just parked the car when she feels the buzz. A moment later, the corpse in her back seat takes a breath. She looks back to see her son whole and unburnt, but completely bewildered.

“M-mom?”

She smiles. “Hi, darling.”

He blinks. And blinks again. Sits up. “So, um, are you alive, or am I dead?”

She grimaces at that. “A little of both, I’m afraid.”

He frowns, and then his expression turns frantic. “Veronica!” He reaches for the door, but she’d engaged the child locks when she’d stolen his corpse from the scene of the explosion, and it does no good.

“She’s fine,” she soothes him. “But we need to talk, before you go back to her. If you go back to her.”

He scowls. “Why wouldn’t I go back to her?”

“Maybe because she was talking to you just moments before you died in an explosion? And most people tend to stay dead from things like that.”

“An explosion?”

“Your car exploded,” she tells him. “You were right beside it. You died.”

“So I’m dead?”

“You were. Now? Not so much.”

“Mom, you’re not making any sense.”

Then she feels the buzz once more. And by the way he rubs his nape and shudders, she knows he feels it too. She grabs her sword from where it’s lying against the front seat, unsheathes it. She’s not much of a fighter, but for this boy? For  _ her  _ boy? She’d take on the Four Horsemen themselves. “Come with me now, Logan.”

“Mom?” He’s goggling at her blade. “Is that a freaking sword?”

“Yes,” she says, and can’t help adding, “Technically, it’s a saber.”

“What the hell are you doing with a  _ sword _ ?”

“Keeping us alive. I’ve got one for you too.”

“Wh—”

“We don’t have time for explanations, Logan. That prickling feeling at the base of your neck means there’s someone nearby who may want to cut both our heads off. We need to get away.”

He frowns. “I can’t leave Veronica.”

“If you lead them to Veronica, you could put her in danger too.” She sees his expression turn steely, realizes this is the button she needs to push to get him to cooperate. “For now, getting away means keeping her safe. Follow me.”

She gets out of the car, lets him out of the back seat, and takes his hand while keeping her sword out. She leads him to her boat, where they quickly untie the moorings and head out onto open water. They don’t drop anchor until nightfall.

Once they do, he turns to her. “Two things,” he says, holding up the same number of fingers. “One, are we safe now?”

“Yes,” she says. “We would both know if he was near.” He gives her a strange look at that. She shrugs. “The prickling at the back of your neck? That feeling like a slight hangover? That’s how you know someone like us comes near.”

“I’ll want to know more later. Two, is Dad—is Aaron alive and walking around too?”

Her face darkens at that. “No, baby. He’s dead, and good riddance.”

He nods slightly. “On that we can agree.”

“I’m sorry for leaving you with him, but someone was after me, and I was afraid, especially as I knew he would be able to sense you too. I meant to come back, but he seems to have settled in the area, and you never seemed to want to leave, except when you were with the Navy.”

“I’m still with the Navy, Mom.”

She shrugs. “You might not be, if you’re legally dead.”

“About that. Explain how I’m alive, if I was blown up.”

And so she does. She tells him about Immortals, about how he’ll revive from any death save decapitation. About the buzz and what it means when another Immortal is near. She offers him a sword, one she’s been carrying with her for a long time. She’d commissioned it for him from a master craftsman years ago, before the bridge, from the days she was sure he’d be delivered to his first death by Aaron Echolls.

He unsheathes it, sees the way she’s had his initials engraved into the hilt. He stares at the blade dazedly. “How do you know another Immortal is going to want to kill us?” he asks.

“I don’t,” she says. “And I’ll even introduce you to a few of the friendly ones. But on the whole, it’s better to be safe than sorry, especially until you learn to fight with a sword.”

He frowns. “About that. This.” He swings the blade carelessly, making her grimace at the lack of technique. “A sword, Mom? Really?”

She shakes her head. “You don’t understand The Game, but like it or not, you’re already in it.”

“The Game? Mom, what are you talking about?”

“I’m not the best at explaining it,” she says, sighing. “And I’m not good enough at the sword to mentor you. I’ve got a friend I can bring in who can do that, and he owes me a favor or two, so I’m pretty sure he’ll be willing to do it. But it’ll take him a while to fly in from Paris. Or he’ll ask that you go there to meet him.”

He pulls at his hair, short as it is. She thinks fondly of the frosted tips he sported all those years ago. “Mom, I’m not going to fly to Paris to learn  _ sword fighting _ .”

“Logan, you have to, or you’ll  _ die _ .”

“According to you, I’ve already died.”

She shakes her head. “That was just your first death. I mean, if you don’t learn to defend yourself, the next Immortal you come across might just take your head.”

“Why? Can you tell me that much?” He’s scowling at her. “Why do you think some random Immortal who’s probably never even met me will want to kill me on sight?”

“Because—” She grimaces.

“Because what?”

“Because in the end, there can be only one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Easter egg: The bit about the friend in Paris who lives on a boat references Duncan MacLeod from Highlander: The Series.
> 
> Also, the story’s title was originally “I have inside me blood of kings,” which was a line from “Princes of the Universe” by Queen, which was the theme/opening credits song for the Highlander movies and Highlander: The Series. The song is included on our playlist.


	6. The One Where Leo Pulls Rank by Irma66

Veronica stood silently, watching the Neptune P.D. squad car drive away with the guy who'd been terrorizing the city smirking at her through the back window. Well, one of the guys. That first bomb, she was sure now that one had to be on Big Dick and his minions, but he'd paid for his sins already with his head, and his hired Fitzpatrick goon had either gotten in the way of his own bomb paraphernalia, or had been blown up to eliminate someone who might talk. Hopefully Penn wouldn't be able to use Big Dick as his compelling alternate theory. The little creep had endangered her dad, and that was not something she could overlook.

The NPD car disappeared from her view and she took a quick look around. There were still clusters of students and parents everywhere, talking and watching the area where the bomb had been set. That scene was bustling with cops, and she ducked her head as she noticed Leo in conversation with the police chief. He'd said he was leaving town, but apparently he hadn't gotten clear of Neptune soon enough. She pivoted away. Time was short and now that she wasn't dead, and her father wasn't dead, she had some pretty big plans for the rest of the day, which did not include any conversation with Leo. Her priority was finally making an honest man out of Logan. First though, she was going to have to tell her dad about this rather sudden turn of events.

Keith was deep in discussion with Van Clemmons and Veronica re-directed her path toward the men. They glanced up at her as she approached and her old principal raised an eyebrow at her.

"You know, Veronica, I seem to recall telling you a few years ago that life without you had been boring. I'd like to clarify that I didn't mean that boring was a bad thing."

Veronica chuckled. "Maybe not, but I wanted to be sure I was keeping you on your toes."

Mr. Clemmons gave her one of his rare smiles. "Seriously, though, we owe you both a debt of gratitude. I don't even want to think about what could have happened here without you." He looked over the remaining crowd, his brow furrowing. "I'm sure that Mr. Kane would say the same."

Veronica laughed, loud and bitter. "Mr. Kane would sooner chew gravel than ever thank Mars Investigations for anything."

Keith coughed, somehow managing to express his disapproval in the sound, then cleared his throat. "We greatly appreciate your acknowledgement, Van, but once we knew that it was Penn Epner behind this, we had to make sure there weren't any more casualties. We're just grateful we were able to help."

Veronica looked away from the men, rolling her eyes. "Mmm hmm. Grateful we could help."

She glanced around, spotting Wallace. "Dad, I need to talk to you, but I want to catch Wallace before he gets away. Don't go anywhere."

"I came in your car, Veronica, nowhere to go."

She nodded, then turned back to Mr. Clemmons. "Happy we could keep you alive, Mr. C," she said, shooting him double-barreled finger guns before spinning away to catch Wallace.

"Hey, Fennel," she called, and Wallace looked away from the distraught woman and the teenaged boy he was speaking to. He nodded at Veronica, then clasped a hand on the woman's arm, and said something that was probably comforting. The woman nodded, looking teary, and Veronica sighed. "Nobody died, people," she muttered under her breath, then immediately felt guilty. Not everyone was cut out for death-defying action.

A moment later, Wallace was beside her. "Never a dull moment with Veronica Mars," he said.

"You know I didn't plant that bomb, right?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I'm just messing with ya."

"Just making sure. I mean, you saw Jake Kane. Pretty sure he's blaming this whole fiasco on us, even though we saved his ass and his precious Kane High."

"Well, I'm glad of that too; I'd hate to see my job go up in flames on the first day." He looked seriously at Veronica. "Pretty glad not to get blown up too. So thanks, Supafly."

She shrugged, trying to be casual, but the emotions that had nearly overwhelmed her when she thought her dad was going to die were still too close to the surface. "I couldn't let that happen. I need my BFF."

Wallace hugged her to him. "I'm not always sure that's true anymore, but I'm glad to hear you say it anyway."

"It's true," she insisted, tightening her grip on him. "I know I've been..."

"Difficult?"

"Distracted."

"Bitchy?"

"Hey!" She straightened, pulling away from him. "Don't be mean. It's my wedding day."

"What?!" Wallace shouted, a surprised grin spreading across his face. "Are you serious?"

“As a heart attack,” she replied.

“I can hardly believe it,” he said, hugging her again. “I told Logan not to give up on you. I shoulda bet him—“

“Whaddaya mean, you told Logan not to give up on me?” she questioned, agitated. _ Logan was ready to give up? _

“He just figured that he had to stop thinking about things like marriage, or kids. He didn’t want to upset you by putting any pressure on. That’s why he didn’t even press you for reasons when you said no a couple weeks ago. He’s happy to have you at all, and he didn’t want to mess that up.”

A wave of guilt flooded over her and she suddenly realized from the look on Wallace’s face that he wasn’t happy with her.

“You think I’m a selfish bitch, don’t you?”

Wallace shook his head. “No. I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to, it’s all over your face.”

“What are you talking about? This is my 'I’d rather be on a field trip' face.”

She shook her head. "Well, field trip or no, I have been a selfish bitch. Logan's been twisting himself all over trying to make me happy, and I've been a bully. I wouldn't blame him if he decided I'm not a good bet." She didn't want to think about what that would be like. Her last death-defying experience is what drove her to finally say yes and mean it. Now another, and she knew: Logan was her heart, and she needed him like she needed air. 

"He doesn't think like that; you have to know that's true," Wallace said, his voice low and concerned.

"I hope you're right, because he's marrying me today whether he likes me or not."

"Say what?" A new voice broke into their conversation and Veronica shifted her gaze to Leo, now beside them and looking shocked. "You're getting married?"

The last time, the only time she was pretty sure, she'd been with both Leo and Wallace together was in that twisted sex dream she'd had that night she'd gone dancing and drinking with Leo and Nicole. That thought made the guilt over that dream flood over her. 

"Veronica? Why are you getting married all of a sudden?" Leo's lip curled up, like the idea was disgusting. "The other night, I thought—"

Wallace took a step back, a horrified look on his face and Veronica grabbed his arm. "Nothing happened the other night. Don't look like that, Wallace."

"Oh, I don't know, it seemed like some—"

"It wasn't. It wasn't anything," she snapped at Leo, then focused on Wallace again. "Will you go talk to my dad for a minute, please? I'll be right there."

Wallace's eyes shifted back and forth between her and Leo, then he gave a terse nod. "Okay." He gave her a quick hug, and even in the tense moment, Veronica was amused at the look of disdain that he shot at Leo as he stepped away. All that time when she was afraid that Wallace would never like Logan, and now, not only had he become Logan's confidant, he was apparently his defender as well. She smiled after him. _ You need to be a better friend, Veronica. _

"So what is this about, Veronica? You and I spend the other night together and now you're all of a sudden getting married?"

"We did no such thing!" she said angrily. "We went out, with a third person, for some drinks and we danced. That is not spending the night together."

"You invited me home, Veronica," he answered. "You know as well as I do what would have happened if that girl wasn't in your apartment."

"No, you're wrong, Leo. I love Logan, and only Logan."

"You don't have to love me, or not love him, to do what we were going to do. And you're lying if you say you didn't take me home to fuck me."

She slapped him, then snatched her hand away, clutching it against her chest. "I have never, and will never, fuck you, Leo. You've been trying to get me into bed since I was seventeen, and I have always chosen Logan. I see why you got the wrong idea the other night, but that was never—"

"Right. Keep telling yourself that, Veronica." He sneered at her, a bright splotch of red on his cheek from her hand. "So it was nothing, but you're rushing off to get married. Seems like someone's feeling a little guilty. Wonder how your future husband would take the news that you had me in your apartment? Do you think he's willing to share?"

She pressed her hand, now a fist, harder against her sternum. The urge to punch him this time was nearly overwhelming. 

"I think he'd believe me over you, Leo. And he doesn't punch much these days, but I know he makes exceptions, and you trying to tell him that something happened between us when nothing did would probably qualify. So why don't you get about whatever you came here for and leave me alone. I need to go get ready for my wedding." 

"Whatever, Veronica," he said, dismissive, and he turned away, walking toward the Neptune cops. She watched him go, shaking her head. _ God, Veronica, what the hell did you ever see in him? _ She spun on her toes and headed back to Keith and Wallace.

Her dad was watching her suspiciously and she relaxed her fist, dangling her arm loosely by her side, plastering a smile on her face. 

"Assaulting a federal law enforcement officer is a felony, Veronica," he said. "Is there a message that you want me to give Logan when they send you up the river? I do, perhaps?"

Veronica glared at Wallace. "Why did you tell him? I was going to."

"He didn't know I didn't know," Keith said, rolling his eyes. "I'm a little surprised too, that you're getting married in a couple of hours and you're just now telling me?"

"It just happened," she shared. "I hadn't had a chance. We've been a little busy, in case it slipped your mind." She grimaced as she heard herself. "I didn't mean that."

"It's okay," he said. "So, last minute wedding and you're smacking Leo. Any correlation?"

"No. Now, let's get out of here. Wallace, you're coming to the wedding, right? Four o'clock at the Courthouse." She gave him her most engaging smile. "Shae too, but Noah might be bored."

Wallace pulled her into another hug. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." He leaned back to grin at her. "Speaking of Noah, I think he'd like a cousin."

Veronica blanched. "Too much, too soon, Wallace. Why don't you worry about giving him a little brother or sister, and I'll not even _ think _ about what you just said."

"We'll see," he teased, then reached out to clap his hand on Keith's shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

They walked back toward the parking lot, Keith and Veronica stopping at her car which was pulled haphazardly up to the edge of where the seating for the opening ceremony had been set up. "Can you hang on a minute, Wallace, and lift up that scene tape for me so I can get out of here?"

Keith frowned. "You're inside the tape," he began, and suddenly Leo was beside them again.

"What, may I ask, do you think you're doing?

"Getting in my car so I can get home," Veronica answered. She raised her eyebrows. She had no patience for this guy anymore. "I've got places to be."

"Well, _ you _ might, but this car is being impounded." He gave her a smug, cheerless smile. "Sorry. It's just protocol. This car is evidence."

"Of what?" Veronica asked."You gonna make me Penn's accomplice?"

"Veronica!" Keith frowned and shook his head sharply at her. "The car is inside the crime scene tape. And Penn was in it. Leo's not wrong."

"Thank you, Keith," Leo said, supercilious. "Why don't you hand over the keys, Veronica?"

"How am I supposed to get home?" 

"Uber?"

She again felt the urge to strike him, but at this point, she had a feeling that would end up messing with her plans for the day more than not having a car. And, what her dad said was probably right. She'd had the bad guy in her car, and she was inside the perimeter. _ Shoulda parked further away. I'll remember that in my next emergency. _

"Fine, here." She dug in her pocket for her key-chain, then tugged the car key free and handed it to Leo. "I expect to get it back in the pristine condition in which you're taking custody."

He snatched the key from her, not bothering to respond, then moved toward her car.

"Can I at least get my bag?" she called after him.

"After it's been searched and released," he shouted back. He started to slide into the driver's seat, then stopped and leaned in to move the seat back. As she watched, he reached behind her seat and wrestled something around, probably some of the pile of coats and sweaters she tended to toss back there, and then he climbed in. 

"Wait!" she yelled, holding up a hand. He made a face and lowered the window. 

"What do you want, Veronica?"

"Where are you taking it? Where do I get it back?"

"The FBI has a yard south of San Diego. It'll be there. Someone will notify you. Probably two to three weeks."

"What? Why?" she cried. "Search it now and give it back. You're taking it practically to TJ? You're going to be stuck in San Diego traffic for hours. You know there's nothing to find in there."

"Procedure," Leo said, as he raised the window and backed out, then started forward.

"You're gonna need gas," she shouted as he drove past her, resisting the urge to flip him off before turning back to her dad and Wallace.

"Leo seems uncharacteristically reluctant to bend the rules to suit you," Keith said with a smirk. Veronica sneered and shook her head.

"At least I had my phone and my keys in my pocket," Veronica said with an irritated growl. She shook her head. "How did he even get in the FBI? Didn't Lamb fire him for letting the tapes in Lilly's case get stolen? Do they really want an agent who can get torn apart on cross over prior evidence mishandling?" 

Keith gave an uneasy chuckle. "Breakdown in the bureaucratic process? Failing up? I dunno." He looked at Wallace. "Any chance you can get us home?"

Veronica narrowed her eyes at her dad. He had the guilty countenance of someone who knew more than he was saying, but she had more important issues than Leo's employment potential to worry about. "Yeah, can we bum a ride?"

Wallace nodded. "Absolutely. Gotta make sure you don't miss your own wedding."

"Logan will appreciate that," she said with a smile. They all started toward his car. "So, do you think it's bad karma to wish a traffic jam on Leo since he's essentially stolen my car out of spite?"

Both men laughed. "Nah," Wallace said. "How bad can getting stuck in traffic hurt him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So do we think Leo was still in the car at 5 PM? Not stuck in traffic though—I'd hate for any innocent bystanders to get a taste of Leo's medicine.


	7. The One Where They Celebrate by Chickabiddy

Logan pulled away, ending their kiss, and Veronica looked around at the smiling faces of all the people closest to her. She felt a pang of guilt that none of Logan’s people were here; no Dick, no Trina, not even one of his Navy buddies. She knew her snap decision made it impossible, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. It felt like they were given a new start. 

Right here, right now, Logan and Veronica could put everything else behind. This was their wedding day. Surely nothing that came before was as important, and they could decide together where to go from here. And maybe this big, life changing event would be enough to keep her mind off what she’d been trying to forget for months.

Her dad clapped Logan on the back, Wallace hugged her, everyone was chattering excitedly, and Veronica was itching to leave. She wanted to go home and start the “where to go from here” portion of the evening. Logan was dropping hints about a honeymoon and she wanted to get going. Smiling and nodding wasn’t moving the process along, so Veronica went for direct instead. 

“Well, thank you for being here—” she began.

“You’re lucky, Supafly.” Veronica groaned at the use of her old nickname. “Usually more than a two hour notice is expected before you attend a wedding. I have a baby, you know.”

“Eh,” she dismissed his protest easily. “Isn’t that what you have a wife for? The baby and the home stuff, a woman’s job. You probably weren’t even planning to watch Noah tonight.”

Wallace scowled in mock annoyance, hands on his hips. 

“Don’t you let Shae hear you say that. She’ll sue your ass for slander.”

Veronica let out a peal of laughter. Why had it been so long since she’d actually had fun like this with Wallace? It was like her relationship with Wallace existed through a pane of glass. She could see him, he could see her, but anything more was difficult and cloudy. 

Being around him and Shae, especially with Noah, was painful in a way she wasn’t ready to explore. But she missed this, missed her friend and the ease of their relationship. She’d been putting her issues on Wallace, and she didn’t want to punish him for her problems anymore. Their friendship deserved better. 

She hugged him, this time actually hugging rather than just being hugged. 

“There she is,” he whispered in her ear. 

She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, not acknowledging what he said. But when she met his eyes, she knew he understood. The past couple months… well she hadn’t been herself and she would be happier than anyone if she could just start feeling like herself again.

Wallace stepped away from her, to the side of the group, giving her a soft smile as he pulled out his phone.

Clapping his hands together, Keith interrupted the moment and all eyes turned to him.

“So, traditional? I’m sure there’s a table at Mama Leone’s with our names on it?”

“Traditional is good, but what’s the point of dragon hoard levels of wealth if I don’t spend some of it on a day like today?” Logan interjected.

Wallace, still focused on his phone, chuckled at their exchange. 

“Ah,” countered Keith. “But why go for the unknown when we can have a guaranteed good time?”

“Maybe to have an actually decent meal?” Logan joked back.

Veronica made to protest, bow out for her and Logan so they could go straight home, but her not-so-subtle, “Actually—”, was ignored.

“Hush your mouth, boy,” Keith snapped back in a good natured way. “Mama Leone’s is the _ most _ decent meal.”

Logan shook his head. “You’re the Father-in-Law of Mr. Money Bags, now Mr. Mars. Aim higher.” 

“I assume you have a suggestion?” Keith capitulated with an easy laugh.

Veronica looked to Logan, trying to dissuade him from encouraging her dad. At this rate, it would be hours before they were alone again. Amusement twinkled in his eyes and she knew she was on her own. She needed to shut the idea down now or nothing would stop it. 

“You know,” she started in again. Wallace caught her attention, eyebrows raised pointedly as he nodded toward Keith. She saw her dad’s excitement; he looked happier than she’d seen him in weeks. Sighing internally, she finished, “Logan is right. What’s the point of having a sugar daddy if you never use him?”

Logan huffed out his sarcastic indignation, Wallace chuckled, and Keith smiled. The itch to leave faded slightly and Veronica relaxed into her decision. Maybe spending the evening celebrating with the people she loved was the perfect way to end the day. There was plenty of time for a… _ private _celebration later. 

“So,” Wallace finally spoke up. “Waiting hours for a small table with small portions just to feel rich sounds like a great night. But I have an even better idea.”

* * *

Wallace refused to divulge anything more about his idea, stating they would know soon enough and it was supposed to be a surprise. It took Veronica all of two minutes to work out that he was directing them to his own house. Her spidey senses tingled and she knew Wallace had planned some kind of wedding reception shenanigans. 

Her first instinct was to be mad. No one asked her if she wanted a reception. No one asked her if she and Logan had plans or needed to be somewhere. Plus, every time she’d gone to Wallace and Shae’s recently, the visits were more than a little awkward. It was difficult for her to see them, the picture of a happy family, and feel like she had a place anymore. 

The closer they got to Wallace’s house, the more uneasy she felt. She should have stuck to her guns and told everyone she and Logan wanted time alone tonight. They could plan a reception later. 

Then Wallace squeezed her shoulder from behind and she remembered it wasn’t Wallace’s (or Shae’s or Noah’s) fault that she felt out of place. 

She made a conscious effort to re-engage in the conversation happening around her. And while she felt a little fake, a little forced, by the time they reached Wallace and Shae’s house, she felt lighter than she had in months. 

* * *

Waallace must have texted Shae when they got close, because as they pulled into the driveway of Wallace’s home, she was waiting out on the lawn holding Noah in her arms. Behind them, poster board signs decorated with “Just Married” and “Congratulations” hung on the front porch. 

Everyone piled out of the car and Veronica choked a little in appreciation of Wallace and Shae. She hadn’t expected to want to celebrate, but with everyone here, she felt grateful there were people who cared enough to want to celebrate with them. They didn’t have a large group of people here, but they did have _ their _ group of people. 

Shae wrapped Veronica in a one-armed hug. 

“Thank you for agreeing, Veronica,” Shae whispered in her ear before pulling away. “This means so much to Wallace.”

Veronica could only smile and nod, not trusting her voice.

Logan worked his irresistible charm on the Fennels and her dad as they moved their celebrations into the house. Veronica felt a moment of jealousy as she saw how easily he interacted with their friends and family. He had an easy vulnerability about him that she still couldn’t express, even to her nearest and dearest, but as she watched the people she loved, the people who loved them, her jealousy floated away, replaced with gratitude that she and Logan shared people to love. That the people who supported her also supported him.

The group finally settled at the table in the dining room, Shae showing off the quick but delicious looking meal she’d put together. For the first time in months, Veronica didn’t feel the need for an extra distraction. Her phone stayed tucked away in her purse. Surrounded by friends and family, she didn’t feel like she was drowning. She felt weightless.

Wallace tapped his glass with his knife, pulling the attention of everyone present. His smile was bright and his eyes twinkling. He opened his mouth and—

A deafening blast shook the building, the sound of the front room windows shattering reverberating through the house. Veronica, finally relaxing after a month on edge, jumped to attention. Faster than Veronica could move, Shae had scooped up Noah from his high chair and Wallace was there, arms around them both.

Panic settled in Veronica’s gut and choked off her ability to breathe. There was always something. She should have known the peace wouldn’t last. Her lungs weren’t working. She couldn’t breathe. The air wouldn’t come. She reached for something, anything, feeling frantic and needing something to ground her and help her keep on her feet.

Logan, perceptive and composed as ever, grasped her hand and pulled her into a protective embrace. The contact broke her out of the spell which bound her. She gasped in a full, deep breath as she spun out of his arms and pulled him with her to the front of the house.

The air was thick with smoke and dust. Glass crunched under their feet as they made their way outside. They were barely out the door when Logan stiffened beside her. 

Their car was a twisted, blasted heap of burning metal still blazing in the driveway.

“So _ that’s _ what he meant by midday ‘round Fiji…” she heard Logan mutter. 

As she stared at the flames, the weight of it all, the stress of it all, the absurdity of it all, boiled up and she doubled over in laughter. She saw her dad and Wallace’s worried looks, but she couldn’t spare much thought for them. She was half frenzied, half exhausted, and it was all too much. The thought of what could have been...what would have been...in any of the dozens of scenarios that danced through her head… the only way to deal with it all was to let it go in hysterical relief. 

Logan rubbed calming circles on her back as she gasped for control. Even in her own distracted state she could feel the tension rolling off him. He knew too well what this meant, what could have been. She imagined he was warring between relief and murder himself, restraining himself from plotting a suspiciously convenient murder of a certain pizza guy. Especially since Penn had tried to hurt his family. 

Logan was as attached to Noah and Wallace and Shae and everyone else as she was. She imagined he felt like she did, but with more of his “take the fight to them” mentality. With the bad guy already caught though, all they could do was use each other for support and restraint, taking comfort in knowing that he missed his chance to do any more damage. 

The police arrived in a haze of questions and pestering, and all Veronica wanted to do was cuddle up with her new husband and forget the last month ever happened. The feeling seemed to be mutual since Logan hadn’t broken contact with her since the explosion.

* * *

With all she and Logan had gone through today, they decided it would be best to take a night at home and decide what to do in the morning. Veronica didn’t remember the drive from Wallace and Shae’s house; she barely remembered getting home and settling into bed. All she could remember were two distinct thoughts running on a track through her head: _ I could have lost him. I could have lost everyone. _

The nature of the bomb meant the scenarios for what might have been were endless. What if they’d arrived at Wallace and Shae’s just a few minutes later and the bomb had gone off while everyone was congratulating them in the driveway? What if the ceremony had taken longer and the bomb had gone off during the drive? What if she’d pushed harder to get out of the impromptu party and they’d been heading off on their honeymoon? What if, what if, what if...

Knowing how easily she could have lost everything made her realize just how much she’d been taking Wallace, and her dad, and even the long-suffering good naturedness of Shae for granted.

And none of that even came close to how she felt about Logan. Thinking she may never see him again due to her own death was one thing. Awful, yes. But thinking about how she could’ve lost him and had to go on without him? That idea stopped her heart. She realized, probably way too late, that more than being married to Logan, she wanted to spend her life with him. 

Not in the “We’re married, but that’s it” kind of way. More like in a “I share everything with you” kind of way. She was tired of trying to parse herself out in small doses. She was tired of toning herself down and biting her tongue. The possibility of losing Logan forced her to consider that only giving herself partway wasn’t really giving herself at all. And she wanted to give him her all.

The thought of sharing her darkness made her stomach churn. But if Logan had kept a secret like this from her, she’d be furious. He had as much right to her struggles as she did to his. 

“Logan?” 

She hated how timid she sounded. She dealt with death and bombs. Why was being honest and vulnerable still so difficult after five years? He looked at her steadily from his side of the bed. No pushing, he only reached out and took one of her hands in his, playing with her fingers like he used to when they were in college. She could tell he wanted to show he was here, supporting her, so she tried again. 

“I… I have to tell you something.”

He didn’t say anything, just held her hands. 

“While you were gone, on that last deployment before the bombs, that long deployment...” She stalled again. 

Her voice was so foreign, so detached. There was a ringing in her ears and her chest felt tight. She pushed on, trying to steady her breathing. 

“There was a case, while you were gone. It was…” 

Veronica couldn’t get the words to come. Explaining it again felt like reliving it.

Logan came to her rescue. 

“The case with the missing kid?” She nodded. “You told me about that. They found his body, right?”

“Yes, and no.” She hadn’t told anyone, other than the police. Not even her dad knew. But it was time, he deserved to know. “… I found him, Logan. I found him—” 

She choked off with a sob. Logan pulled her into his arms and she cried out everything she’d been trying to repress the past two months. The images of the little boy… and then thinking about Wallace’s kid, and Logan’s goo-goo eyes at the baby. How could you bring a kid into that kind of world? How do you have a family in that kind of world? 

Logan had been subtly hinting at his desire for kids of their own for the past year or so, and for a while Veronica was even considering it. But that case… and how could she disappoint Logan? How could she let him down again? 

He was better off with a woman less broken. One who could have a real, stable family with him. But she was too selfish to tell him he was better off without her. 

Then seeing what happened to Mattie… it was too much. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe she should give Jane a call. Maybe she could be more like him. Find a way to heal a little and give back some of the love and support she’d always gotten from Logan, and Wallace, and her dad…

“I’m so sorry, Veronica,” Logan murmured into her hair. 

She choked a little, losing some of the control she’d won back. After a moment, she regained composure. 

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Logan. I should have told you before.”

He didn’t contradict her but didn’t pull away either. 

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she tried lamely to explain.

He didn’t respond at first, taking a moment to kiss the top of her head. 

“I was worried anyway, Veronica. I knew something was wrong.”

She buried her face in his chest, both appreciating and hating how well he could read her. 

“I know.”

He rubbed her back in small circles, then pulled her down with him and snuggled into her back. His arms circled protectively around her. She felt safe. Loved.

“I trust you, Veronica,” he mumbled. “We’ll get through this. Sleep now. We’ll handle the rest tomorrow.”

Logan drifted off to sleep long before Veronica. Now that she’d told him about the case, there was so much more she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him how she couldn’t sleep. Tell him how she knew she was letting him down, even if he’d never admit it. Tell him that she was ready to talk to Jane. But for now, his soft snoring and loving embrace were comforting and safe. She just needed one more night to feel safe. They would deal with the rest in the morning. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my BIGGEST issues with s4 is Veronica changed SO MUCH from when we saw her last with no explanation. So along with saving Logan, I also wanted to provide some explanation and closure to the out of character behavior. I hope it was realistic in tone and delivery. :) Also, in what world do Keith and Wallace let them run off without celebrating? I mean, really. Come on, Rob.


	8. The One Where Pony Needs To Pack by CubbieGirl1723

“I think I’m gonna shower first.” Veronica adjusts the taps, surprised that her husband doesn’t offer to jump in with her.

“Yeah, I’m moving the car,” Logan hollers from the kitchen.

“Hey, wait, before you do that, could you get Pony’s stuff together?” She pulls her head out of the shower and steps out of the bedroom to find him in the kitchen. “My dad’s swinging by to pick her up.”

He raises his eyebrows pointedly. “Your dad? We’re newlyweds. Shouldn’t he worry that he might walk in and see—”

“Keep it in your pants until we get to Sedona, buddy,” she admonishes him, grinning. 

“What all does Pony have? A leash and a water bowl?” He wraps his arms around her and places a kiss on the top of her head. 

“And food. Duh.”

“Okay, food, leash, bowls. And then I’ll move the car.”

“Thanks.” She watches him gather the dog’s necessities, still thinking absently about the travel time to Sedona before heading back to the shower.

_ Hey, wait a minute. Arizona doesn’t do daylight savings time _.

“Logan!” she calls, but there’s no response.

_ Time...time zones...what’s the time difference in Fiji? Penn’s limerick...Noon in Fiji would be...what? 4:00? 5:00? _

_ Heroes upon whom were doting…He called me “hero.” When he put his backpack... _

_ His all-important backpack… _

_ In my car _.

Veronica glances at the clock beside their bed. 4:59pm.

“Logan!” 

She rushes to the window. He’s not there.

“Logan!”

The blast from the bomb throws her back on the bed. Glass from the window peppers her face and arms with tiny stinging cuts. But her only thought is Logan.

Stumbling out of the room as fast as she can, she trips over a fallen framed picture in the hallway and twists her ankle. She ignores the pain and limps through the carnage of their apartment. The windows are all blown out and glass litters the floor, along with drywall chunks and shards of wood.

_ Logan. _

Throwing open the door, she leans heavily on the splintered banister as she races down the stairs. There, to the right of the staircase in the doorway of the ground floor apartment, is Logan.

His crumpled body lies unmoving, covered with dust and debris. Veronica rushes over to him and cradles his head in her lap. She uses the cloth of her cream-colored wedding dress, already smeared with dirt and blood, to dab at a cut on his scalp. 

“Logan, wake up. Please be okay, Logan,” she murmurs, searching for his pulse. 

Sirens wail in the background, getting louder as his heartbeat thrums under her fingers. 

_ Thank God he hadn’t made it to the car yet _. 

Moaning, Logan’s eyes flutter open, unfocused and confused. 

“Oh, baby, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine,” she tries to reassure as tears prick her eyes. 

The ambulance pulls to a stop in the middle of the road and the EMTs rush out, immediately coming to her side. 

“Ma’am, can you tell us what happened? Is everyone accounted for? Are you okay?”

Veronica nods in the face of all her questions. “But my husband, he was outside,” she croaks, her voice weak. 

The EMT gives a quick jerk of her head and begins examining Logan. His eyes flutter open again and then back closed. 

“Let’s get him to the hospital.” She looks to her partner, who grabs a stretcher from the back of the vehicle and, once everything is prepped, carefully transfers Logan to it. 

Veronica hovers close by. There’s no way they are taking Logan anywhere without her. 

The second EMT gives her an assessing glance and his eyes flash with concern. “Ma’am, you should probably come in the ambulance with us. It looks like you could use medical attention, too.”

Without a second thought, she scrambles up next to Logan in the ambulance and grabs his hand, squeezing it. 

“You’re going to be fine, Logan. You have to be.”

* * *

When they arrive at the hospital, Logan is whisked away to a separate examination room while a placid nurse tends to the shallow cuts along Veronica’s arms and face. 

“I’m really fine,” she protests for the hundredth time. “Please let me go check on my husband.”

“You will be fine, that’s correct, and I’ll be done soon.” His ID badge reveals his name is Adam and so far he’s been unaffected by both her pleas and her threats. _ Damn him. _

The man’s face doesn’t waver as Veronica hisses at the sting of the antiseptic. Just as she’s about to open her mouth and take all her frustration out on him, she hears her dad’s frantic voice.

“Veronica? Veronica!”

“Dad, I’m over here!” 

Adam glares at her as she throws open the curtain partitioning off her small section of the ER. 

“Veronica, I was on my way to your apartment and the crime scene techs told me you were here. I came right away! What happened?”

Keith rushes to her side and she leans into him. Mercifully, Adam allows them a moment before clearing his throat.

Veronica lets the nurse finish disinfecting her cuts and making sure all the glass is cleaned out of them. He doesn’t seem to mind working while her dad peppers her with questions.

“Veronica, where’s Logan? Are you okay?”

“Dad, I figured it out, but I was too late. Penn planted another bomb, this one in my car. God, if Logan had—”

She breaks off, unable to continue that line of thought. 

“Is Logan here somewhere?” Her dad’s forehead is wrinkled in concern. “What happened to him?”

“He was outside, Dad, when the bomb went off. I rode in the ambulance with him but I don’t know where they took him. Can you go find out?”

“Of course, honey. I’ll be right back.” He opens the curtain to exit but she stops him.

“And Dad—”

Keith sticks his head back in, eyebrows raised. 

“I don’t have my phone to call Wallace or Dick, but Pony. I need someone to go check on her.”

“I already dropped her off with Cliff on my way.”

Pretending that the tears that prick her eyes are from the sting of her cuts, she swipes at them quickly as her dad hurries off to find Logan. 

“Ouch!” Veronica jumps as Adam cleans a particularly sensitive cut over her eye. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m just gonna put a butterfly bandage on this one and then you’re all done. Don’t want a scar to mess up this pretty face.”

“I. Don’t. Care,” she growls. “I just have to find my husband.”

She’s being a terrible patient but Logan didn’t open his eyes once in the ambulance and she has to find him, has to see him and make sure he’s going to be okay. The sight of him lying on the pavement, surrounded by the debris from the bomb, keeps running through her mind and she realizes what she could have lost. She really hasn’t been the girlfriend—wife—that’s he deserved lately but she’s going to make it up to him. He’s worked so hard to be the kind of man that she’d be proud of. Now it’s her turn. She’ll even agree to therapy if that’s what he wants. 

_ He just has to be okay _.

Her dad opens the curtain again, pops his head in. “I found him, Veronica. We can go see him as soon as you’re done here.”

Without waiting for Adam to finish, she hops off the cot and starts to brush by her dad, only to have him block her progress with his outstretched arm.

“Sit back down. You let this nice young man finish patching you up first.” His voice is firm, a tone she hasn’t heard him use in years.

“Hey, I’m a grown woman now, you remember that, right?” But she perches on the edge of the bed and keeps her mouth shut until Adam finishes.

“Change the bandage every time you shower, please, until it scabs over.”

“Thank you,” she calls, already half-way down the hall.

* * *

Logan is propped up in bed, resting, when Veronica bursts through the door of his hospital room, her dad on her heels.

She halts as his eyes slowly open, then moves cautiously to his side. His left arm is in a splint and he’s covered in tiny cuts and scrapes.

“Hey, there. How ya doing, Sailor?”

It’s one of her favorite long-standing jokes. He opens his mouth, probably to correct her that he is not a sailor but apparently it’s too much work because his eyes slide closed again.

Veronica gently runs her hand over his hair and he leans into her palm. She presses a tender kiss to his forehead. Her dad stays back by the door, giving them a moment. 

“You gave me a scare, you know that? Nothing like a brush with death on our wedding day.”

“Mrs. Echolls?” 

Veronica doesn’t bother to correct the doctor about her name. Holding Logan’s chart and wearing green scrubs, she radiates competency. 

Squeezing Logan’s hand, she raises a brow and waits for the doctor’s pronouncement. 

“I heard you’ve had quite a day. The good news is, your husband is going to be fine. We’re going to keep him here tonight for observation but he should be able to go home tomorrow.” Flipping through some pages, she consults his chart. “As you can see, he’s fractured his arm and also has a pretty nasty concussion. You might need to postpone your honeymoon plans for a few weeks.”

“But Logan will be okay?” Keith questions, coming to stand next to Veronica. 

“Absolutely. He’ll need to take it easy, concussions aren’t something to take lightly, but I expect a full recovery.”

Veronica exhales, the anxiety in her chest loosening for the first time since she deciphered Penn’s limerick. 

“I’ll have a nurse come in and explain some things about his care in a little bit. Do you have any questions for me right now?”

Veronica shakes her head no and manages to thank the doctor before sinking down on the bed next to Logan. 

“Honey, I can’t believe…” Her dad trails off, his face a mask of worry. “I mean, what if…”

“I know, Dad. I know.” Clearing her throat, she changes the subject. “Um, we’re without a vehicle at the moment. I’m staying here tonight but how about you go home and come back in the morning to pick us up?”

“Are you sure?”

_ Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from my husband’s side. _

“I’m sure.” 

_ And I really don’t need my dad to witness the coming emotional breakdown. _

Keith kisses the top of her head; his hand smoothing over her hair where it's escaping the cream ribbon holding it back. As the door snicks closed behind him, she lies down next to her sleeping husband and lets the tears come. 

“Logan.” She clutches him as she sobs. “I can’t believe I almost lost you. I’m sorry it took this but I promise, I won’t take you for granted again.”


	9. The One With The Doctor by EllieBear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Doctor Who crossover. 
> 
> TW: character death...sort of...but not really...

Veronica wills herself to move. He could be downstairs, waiting for help. Waiting for her. As the sirens blare in the distance, she crawls through the wreckage of their bedroom towards the door, hoping that she doesn’t completely collapse before she makes it outside.

_ This can’t be happening. He can’t be gone. Not like this. _

Fear and shock collide as she gasps back the sobs that kept her laying on her bed too long. She needs to see — see for herself what has become of Logan. 

When she reaches the door, she grasps the doorknob with both hands, pulling herself up to stand. Taking a deep breath before opening the door, she braces herself against the wall as she teeters down the stairs in her heels. The smell of smoke and gasoline makes her choke, churning her stomach as she inches closer. There’s yelling from the street but she ignores it, pressing on in search of something she doesn’t want to find.

Turning the corner, the heat from the inferno makes her step back, her arm going up to shield herself from the fire. The car is nothing but a skeleton of melted plastic and metal under the blaze and she glances about, trying to spot anything in the destruction that looks like the man she loves. 

“He’s gone.”

The words fall from her lips before she even comprehends what she’s admitting and she feels her stomach turn again as she groans in agony. Running towards the safety of the building across the alley, she drops behind a garbage can, vomiting, heaving with all her might, out of sight from any onlookers. That’s when the tears come again, as she cries out in anguish at the knowledge that she has lost Logan forever.

Behind her, a strong breeze sweeps up and tosses her hair and for a moment she flails, trying to keep her locks off her face and out of the line of her hurling. A bright flash fills the space and she turns, a gasp stealing almost the last of her breath as she looks upon what seems to be a very large, bright blue wooden telephone booth standing in the middle of the alley.

“What. The. Fuck…?” Standing, she steadies herself, holding onto the trash can for support.

For a second, it’s as if the world freezes as she stares at the  _ thing _ that has suddenly appeared. She can now make out the words “Police Box” in white text over the door and she wonders if the shock of losing Logan has permanently wrecked her brain. Once upon a time, she had a picture of Piz in one of these call booths, from their "retrace the rise of The Clash" trip to London. 

_ Is this what crazy feels like? _

The door opens and a striking woman with a neat auburn bob steps out hesitantly, peering around as if checking for something or someone. Seeing Veronica standing close by, she straightens, grasping her grey hooded overcoat by the collar.

“You aren’t by any chance Veronica Mars, are you?”

Startled by the sound of her name — spoken with crisp British inflection — Veronica blinks rapidly, her hand pressing convulsively at her chest. The woman appears to be around her age, wearing an odd-fitted striped men’s sweater and pants that are a little too short for her, held up by suspenders. Not exactly who she would expect emerging from a police call box, but then again, what was the big blue structure doing here anyway? 

“I am. But a better question is  _ who the hell are you _ ?”

Clasping her hands together, the woman does a little double step of happiness, a wide grin spreading across her face. 

“Ta! Brilliant! We finally made it back here!” Scampering back to the blue box, she sticks her head in and yells, the sound echoing back outside. “We did it this time! I got you home!”

Coming out again, the woman hurries over to Veronica, grasping her by the shoulders and continuing to smile as if she was a cat that caught a thousand canaries.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been to come back here. But he kept insisting I had to bring him back here, at this moment, so you wouldn’t be hurt.”

“What? Wait? Who are you talking about? And by the way, too late because I’m already hurt so if you think…”

“Veronica?”

She hears Logan’s voice from behind the woman and she peeks around her to see him, standing at the doorway to the blue phone box. He’s still dressed in his wedding suit, looking the same as he did just a few minutes ago, with one exception — a streak of stunning silver runs from his temple through his dark chestnut hair.

“Logan?”

Breaking free, Veronica runs towards him, launching herself into his arms and he groans as he catches her, her legs wrapping around his waist.

“You’re alive. You’re alive,” she mumbles into his neck, burying her head against him. 

His arms squeeze her so hard she can barely breathe, but she doesn’t care. All the fear of him being gone has vanished and the elation at seeing him sends a rush of endorphins through her, sending her pain miraculously away.

“I am, Veronica. That’s why I insisted the Doctor return me to this spot. I couldn’t bear it if you went through life thinking I was really dead.”

Dropping her legs down, she stands, grasping his face in her palms to get a good look at him, checking to make sure he is in fact alive and not a figment of her imagination. It’s then that she sees the age, around his eyes and across his forehead — tiny puckering of skin that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

“Hang on...return you? Where...how…how long have you been gone?”

“Well now, here’s the thing — ” The woman’s voice startles Veronica and she lurches slightly, dropping her hands from Logan’s face and turning. 

“To you here on earth, he’s only been gone a little while, but up there…” She waves her hand in vague directions towards the sky. “It’s been…oh…more like about ten years…ish. Give or take a few days. Or years. Time space relativity and all kinds of being all wonky out there in the great abyss.”

“Time,” Veronica notes, turning back to Logan. “And… _ space _ ?”

Clearing his throat, Logan nods at the woman as if asking for permission for something. When she nods back to him, he begins to speak. 

“Well, yes. Very long story short...just as I was about to get into our car, I was distracted by this — ” he gestures to the blue box “ — well…it’s called a TARDIS…landing in the alley. I was walking towards it just as the bomb exploded in the car behind me and it tossed me in through the open doors and at the feet of the good Doctor here. But before I could say anything —” he glances at the woman with a scoff and a head shake “ — she closed the doors and took off to get away from the fire from the explosion.”

“Ah, see now, that’s my cue.” 

Without warning, the woman is close beside them, her head between Logan and Veronica, and Veronica can’t help but scowl at the presumed closeness of…well…whatever this stranger was with Logan. 

“So, yes, so sorry — maybe should have stuck around to see what had happened, but it was a split-second decision I had to make to ensure my ship wasn’t destroyed. And, as luck would have it, I was in need of a Companion to help me on my travels through time and space and it’s always a bit of a lark with who I end up with…” Grasping Logan’s firm bicep, she gives it a playful squeeze before slapping him congenially on the back. “I do say, this one was in fine form so I figured he could stick around with me for a while, since it seemed as though things on earth were a little dicey for him anyway…”

“I wanted to get back immediately!” Logan interrupts, grasping Veronica’s shoulders. “But the Doctor explained it may take a while to find our way back to you at the precise time I wanted — just after the blast — because, again, time is relative to itself but not always relative in the same way on the same planets.”

Reaching up, Veronica runs her fingers through Logan’s lock of silver hair. “So…you’re…older…but not?”

“Yes. Precisely!” The Doctor exclaims, clapping her hands with glee. “I have to say, I’m so happy we found you before, you know, you started looking through the wreckage for bits of him. That would have been an unpleasant thing to have to do on your wedding day.”

Shaking her head, Veronica glances down at her filthy wedding dress, covered in bits of debris, dirt, and possibly vomit.

“Yes. You’re right. It would have been very…unpleasant. Thank you for saving him.”

“Oh! Well, my pleasure.” The Doctor hooks her thumbs through her suspenders and grins at them both. “He’s a prick, but in the most charming way. And he didn’t shut up about you for ten Earth years, which was lovely and endearing, but also a bit of a pain in the arse."

Jerking his thumb towards the Doctor, Logan grins, deep smile lines pressing through his pale skin. “She means that as a compliment. Don’t let her fool you. It was a trip.”

Glancing at the sky and then back at Logan, Veronica exhales for the first time since the blast. “I bet it was.”

Pointing at them with both index fingers, the Doctor winks. “Well, I’ve set things right. Time for me to go.” 

Offering out her hand, Logan shakes it firmly before stepping away from Veronica, pulling the Doctor into a deep embrace. The woman’s smile falters for a second as she wraps her arms around him, patting his back warmly. They hold themselves there for a second and Veronica realizes that the world around them has in fact paused at this precise moment.

“Thank you, Doctor. For everything,” Veronica hears Logan say.

“I must say, it was an adventure having you aboard my ship, Logan. Never a dull moment.” Parting, the Doctor nods at him as she reaches the doorway to her vessel. “Good-bye to you both. I hope you both embrace this second chance. It took almost another lifetime to make it happen.”

Logan steps back to Veronica and wraps his arms around her waist as she curls herself into him. Glancing up at him again, she still can’t believe he is alive and well and safe next to her.

“Don’t worry,” she says, meeting Logan’s gaze. “I’m never letting him out of my sight again. Not for a second.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left comments on all the writer's fics so far! We all truly appreciate them!
> 
> If you are feeling "comment fatigue" going forward for the next few weeks, please feel free to just leave a "more kudos", "kudos galore", or even "kudos to the power of one million" as comments so the writers still feel the LoVe. :)


	10. The One With The Game by MrsKissyT

Logan let out a low laugh at Veronica’s incessant need to be right about  _ time _ of all things, shaking his head as he stepped out of the bathroom. He was satisfied with Veronica’s agreement about the order of things they would do when they got to Sedona. Realizing that an emergency bag of snacks would be essential for their trip, he started into the short hallway to their kitchen when the notification chimed on his phone. 

“I think I’m gonna shower first,” he heard Veronica call out as she turned the water on.

“Happy wife, happy life, as they say,” he mumbled to himself, smiling at his matrimonial prowess as he rounded into the kitchen, stopping to pull his phone from his pocket. For good measure, he set the volume to vibrate with a flick of his thumb as he entered the password. If Veronica was showering, he would be joining her. No way was he missing out on that opportunity. His self-congratulatory grin faded and he rolled his eyes at the message on his home screen.

** _Street Cleaning Alert _ **

Sighing internally that he had to trudge downstairs, especially when the idea of a shower with his  _ wife _ sounded so much better, he reluctantly grabbed the sunglasses in front of him, hoping another spot close by was available. 

“Hey, I’m movin’ the car,” he said loudly, assuming Veronica would hear — which of course, she didn’t. He heard a faint “What?” as he reached for the doorknob, then his phone buzzed in his hand again. “Moving the car!” he called back. Curious, he swiped to bring up his lock screen.

** _Words WIth Friends: Wallace has played! It’s Your Move!_ **

Street cleaning momentarily forgotten, he leaned up against the door to see how badly Wallace was kicking his ass now.

**SENIOR**

Connected to an ** R**

Down word 

6 points

Unsurprised at the use of that word — Wallace was always incorporating the fact that they were either _ A _ . getting old, or _ B _ . that he was a teacher (and a respected one at that!) — Logan reviewed his tiles. 

**A B C D I O S U**

Smiling at the sheer dumb luck he was given this round, he chuckled to himself as he tapped tiles onto the board.

**BODACIOUS**

“Fifty-two points! Suck it, Fennell!,” he said with a laugh, extremely pleased with his play.

When the game chat box pinged with a message, Logan chuckled at Wallace’s response.

** _You’ve been spending too much time with Casablancas. SMH._ **

Unable to deny it, and knowing, sadly, that Dick would need him now more than ever after what happened with his dad, Logan sent him the shrug emoji, one of his favorites, and a wink. 

He still couldn’t believe that actually happened to Big Dick. Beheaded.  _ Who the hell does that?  _ Your average home invasion didn’t usually end up with a beheading, so this smelled like a hit...or a vendetta. That probably wasn’t surprising, considering the kind of shit Big Dick was probably neck deep in.  _ Ugh, neck deep. Poor choice of words, considering.  _

Shaking his head to clear away the morbid thoughts — it was his wedding day, after all — he set his glasses down on the counter and headed back into the bedroom. 

He’d barely taken a step when the whole apartment shook, the windows blew in, and Logan found himself on the ground with the loud boom of an explosion ringing around him. On instinct, he began reciting his last moments — phone, keys, words, Wallace, Veronica. 

Veronica.

“Logan?!” He could hear her calling for him from the bedroom.

“Veronica?” Jumping to his feet, he gunned it down the hallway towards his wife; the adrenaline kicking in. “ _ Veronica! _ ”

The sounds blaring outside from the various car alarms, screams, shouts, and sirens in the distance were all drowning out any noise coming from inside the apartment. He could barely hear himself think as he stumbled into the bedroom. 

“Logan!? Noo, no, no, Lo-gan…” He could just make out her frantic sobs when he saw her pushing herself up off the floor by their bed. Her hair was wild, the perfect white dress she’d just said “I do” in, covered in dust and wall particles from blast. 

Logan moved towards her, his own minor injuries now becoming apparent - what would become a nasty bruise on his side, cuts and scrapes on his hand from his phone shattering when he’d hit the floor. He watched as she made her way towards the broken windows, glancing outside before she moaned in agony and collapsed onto the ground in tears. Unable to let Veronica fall apart, he rushed to her, gathering her up in his arms.

“I’m here, you’re safe, I’m here,” he chanted over and over into her hair. 

She gasped in between sobs, her eyes immediately on his, hands on either side of his face as she sobbed even harder, mumbling indistinctly as she ran her hands across his face, as if to make sure he was real.

“Oh my god, Lo-Logan!” She hiccuped. “I thought...I looked and I d-didn’t see you. I th-thought, I thought…” 

Shifting to her knees, she grabbed the lapels of his jacket tightly, pulling herself as close to him as she could, burying her head in his chest as a new round of heavy sobs erupted. 

Logan’s heart broke with each one ( _ fitting for a wedding day in fucking Neptune _ ), as he moved his arms under her bottom and hoisted her up until she was straddling him. He understood the absolute need to be as close to her as possible — a feeling he was all too familiar with when deployed. 

“Oh, god, baby no.  _ No _ . I’m so sorry. I didn’t go outside. I’m  _ so sorry _ . I’m here, I’m  _ here _ , I’m  _ OK _ . We’re  _ together _ .  _ I’m safe _ ,” he soothed, his own tears now flowing freely down his face. “I’m OK, I’m OK. Veronica,  _ Veronica _ ! Hey, shhhh, hey. I’m OK.” He held her as tightly as he could, wishing he could cocoon her safely inside his embrace forever.

After a few more murmurs into her hair, his hands gently rubbing circles on her back, he could feel her sobs slow to a steady stream of sniffles, and she gradually released the death grip she’d had on his jacket lapels. 

He leaned back to look into her eyes as she lifted her head, raising his hand to cup her face in his palm, slowly caressing her cheek with his thumb. The look in her eyes of sheer relief mixed with utter agony made his heart clench, especially knowing she’d thought Keith had been lost to her (again!) earlier at the school. He was relieved that he’d pulled the truth about their morning exploits out of her during their car ride home.

In that moment though, he was fucking livid at that shitbag Epner for putting her in this situation to begin with,  _ nothing _ was more important that her emotional well being. He needed to get her away from all of this. Neptune really  _ did _ sit on the Hellmouth. 

“Hey, screw Sedona, huh? Whaddya say we get on a plane right now and get as far as we can from this godforsaken place. I hear the orange blossoms in Sevilla are beautiful this time of year.” 

He brought his other hand up to her face, tucking her frazzled hair behind her ear as she closed her eyes at his touch. He would do absolutely anything for this woman. Veronica Mars. His fucking  _ wife _ . Her eyes fluttered open and she nodded in agreement, giving him a small smile that highlighted her tear stained cheeks.

“Take me away, or lose me forever?” she sighed.

He laughed quietly, relieved that she was able to tease him with Top Gun quotes, then he dropped his arms back to her waist and pulled her in for a fierce hug.

“ _ Always _ .”


	11. The One Where Logan Has Had Enough by Irma66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big old up-front warning -- this is not a HEA ending. We warned you at the beginning, not all of these stories end up with LoVe as a definite thing. This is very much one of those. I think it's safe to say that in most of these stories, we get to see Veronica being more herself again, or at least working toward becoming herself again, rather than the body-snatched, OOC version we got in S4. In this chapter, one of the story threads that really bothered me, Keith's healthcare, comes to the surface, and there are repercussions that may not bode well for our newlyweds. But #LoganLives is what we're here to do, and he does, and anything more will be up to how hard Veronica tries to fix what she's broken, and how much Logan can't resist her when she actually tries to put them first.

Logan kissed Veronica’s temple and slipped his hand out of hers.

“Be right back,” he said and turned from the conversation she was having with Wallace to seek out his new father-in-law who was still chatting with the judge.

“Gentlemen.”

The judge looked up at him with a smile. “Congratulations, young man. My best wishes to both you and your lovely bride.”

“Thank you, sir. Sorry I made you wait; punctuality is generally one of my virtues.”

“Funny thing about the armed services, am I right?” Keith said as he clapped Logan on the shoulder. “My new son-in-law is a Naval Intelligence Officer.”

Logan stood frozen under Keith’s hand. That almost felt like pride in Keith’s statement.

“Well, that is quite impressive,” the judge said. He extended his hand. “Thank you for your service.”

Logan blinked, shocked into silence as they shook. It wasn’t receiving the thanks of a stranger—that happened constantly when he was out in uniform—it was the fact that Keith had initiated the exchange.

“Uh, um, oh. Thank you, sir.”

“Well, I need to be getting back to my real life.” The judge motioned toward the building behind them. “Congratulations again.”

“Thank you,” both Logan and Keith called after him as the man headed for the doors leading from the garden into the Courthouse. As he stepped inside, Keith again turned to Logan.

“So I assume I don’t need to say anything threatening about treating my daughter like the treasure she is, right, Logan?”

Logan chuckled and ducked his head. “No, sir, I’ve got that one down.”

“I think you do.”

Emotion again rolled through him and Logan had to swallow hard to be able to speak. “I wanted to talk to you, sir, before we take off for a honeymoon. Now that Veronica and I are married, I really want to be able to help you with your medical issues. It’s been...really tough to watch you trying to navigate everything since the accident. I’m hoping that now that I’m…family…that you’ll let me help you with some of this medical mumbo-jumbo. I’m sure there are specialists—“

Keith frowned, eyebrows knitting together. “I guess Veronica hasn’t had a chance to share my news. I saw a specialist, and he’s figured out that all my different meds haven’t been playing well together. He straightened all my different prescriptions out and I should be good as new pretty soon. In the memory part, at least. I’m probably going to need a hip replacement here pretty soon, but they tell me that once that’s done, I'll pretty much be a hundred percent. Well, as close to a hundred percent as a guy of my age and past history of tackling bad guys ever gets. So, good news.”

“That is really good news. Your insurance finally approved a specialist who actually helped?”

“Umm, nooo…” Keith suddenly looked embarrassed. “I didn’t use my insurance on this guy.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah, Clyde got me in with Big Dick’s ‘on-call’ doctor. He did a bunch of tests, did an eval—”

“The guy you’ve been investigating got you a doctor?”

“Uh huh. He said he wanted to help,” Keith replied. “I felt awkward about it, but he was insistent, and in the end, I’m glad I did it. It does make things a little weird, since we were actively trying to prove that Big Dick and Clyde were behind the first bombing, but still.”

Again, Logan found himself frozen in place. “I’ve been wanting to help for a while. Is there a reason you didn’t let me?”

“We never really talked about it, Logan. I don’t know if I would have gone along in the beginning. Taking charity’s not really my thing. But when things kept going downhill, who knows, I might have said yes if you’d offered.”

“I did offer. Repeatedly. And every time I brought it up, from the night of your accident on, Veronica told me no. First, that you would never agree, and later, just like she told me you would, that you’d declined. Now, what I’m hearing is she never talked to you at all, even though she told me she had.”

Logan stopped himself, drawing in a long, deep breath through his nose, holding it for a count of ten, then letting it out through his mouth. While he tried to pull himself back from the anger threatening him, he watched Keith’s face grow smooth and impassive.

“Now, Logan, I think we might just have had a misunderstanding. I am sorry about that.”

“You’re sorry? Your daughter doesn’t extend my offer to you to let me help you get better, but you’re sorry? I mean, yeah, you probably should be sorry. Sorry that she let you suffer needlessly for a few years because she didn’t want to ‘owe’ me anything.” The breathing wasn’t working. He was far too angry. “Look, you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have known better than to believe that Veronica actually passed on my offer to you.”

"Listen, don't blame Ver—"

"Don't." Logan held his hand up and Keith trailed off. "Don't make excuses for her. She hurt you in this as much as she hurt me." He glanced over to where Veronica was still talking with Wallace. She looked happy, like maybe she was glad about what they'd just done. But, with her, there was no way to tell what she was really thinking or feeling. He'd been accepting that about her for their entire relationship. Some times had been better than others. The last couple of years had been hard again, with renewed mistrust and a new hardness in her, but more than anything else, he wanted to give her what she needed, and that always seemed to be space, whether that was what he needed or not. _ That's what love is, right? Sacrifice? Except who sacrificed when she refused my help for Keith's medical care? Not Veronica, that's for sure. _

"I gotta go." He spun away from Keith and headed inside, trailing the same path the Judge had just taken. He heard Keith call his name behind him, but he didn't pause. Once in the Courthouse, he walked quickly for the exit, not so fast that the deputies at the security entrance would think he looked suspicious, but quick enough that Veronica shouldn't be able to catch him, if she even bothered to try. 

Outside, he did break into a run, putting as much distance as he could between himself and his new wife. The one who'd been lying to him about her father's medical care for literally years. The one who hadn't even wanted him to propose, let alone get married, until all of a sudden, with no explanation, she did. He knew she never did anything without a reason; he'd known that when, out-of-the-blue, she did a complete one-eighty and begged him to get married immediately. He'd been so happy that he hadn't let himself think about why she'd had the sudden change of heart. He had no idea what had happened—_ what she'd done— _to prompt the speedy nuptials, but it hadn't mattered to him. Like always, he'd been willing to accept whatever she said, whatever she would give, without question. 

As he continued to run through the streets of Neptune, not even sure where he was going anymore, he realized that this was what Jane had been trying to make him understand. Was he sure about the marriage, and why was he sure? Jane probably thought he was just going along because he'd wanted it for so long, not because he actually thought it was the right step. _ Was she right? _

He pulled up short in front of a little cafe and stepped inside. He could have kept going, he wasn't even really breathing hard, but the dress shoes weren't exactly built for a long run and he needed to figure out what he was going to do. He took a seat in the corner and ordered an iced tea, pulling out his phone to check his messages, hoping that maybe he'd lucked out and been summoned on an assignment. That would be the easiest way to put some distance between them while he worked through his feelings, but unfortunately, there was nothing from Naval Intelligence to save him from himself. There were three missed calls from Veronica, but he was in no shape to talk to her.

A waitress appeared beside him. "Sir, we're switching to the dinner menu in five minutes," she said. "Are you going to want to order anything more than that tea?"

He frowned, considering. "Thanks, but probably not. The tea will do it."

She turned away and as he watched her glumly, he saw Keith's car pull up outside the cafe and Veronica dart out, heading inside. 

"Fuck me sideways," he mumbled and turned away. An hour ago, the sight of Veronica becoming his wife made him happier than he'd probably ever been. Now, he just wanted her to go away. 

"Logan, what the hell?" 

He looked up at her. "How did you find me?"

She slipped into the chair across from him, actually looking shame-faced. "Tracked your phone."

"Perfect." His phone began to buzz and he looked at it. "You're probably getting a parking ticket," he said. "I would bet money you parked on the wrong side of the street before your dad picked you up for the wedding."

"I'm gonna have to risk it," she said. "Dad told me what you talked to him about and I know you're mad—"

"Yeah, you could say that."

"But I didn't want to take advantage of you. It wasn't fair."

"No, Veronica, what wasn't fair was making me watch your father continue to deteriorate when I could help him. And worse than that, it wasn't fair for you to leave him to deteriorate when there was an easy way to stop it." He shook his head. "But you didn't want to feel like you owed me. I love you, and you don't want to feel obligated. Only, as I understand it, you didn't mind it when he got himself obligated to one of your suspects. Guy who loves you more than his own life, or a possible murderous felon. Hmm. Which one do you want to get help from? I know who most people would choose, but not Veronica Mars."

"Veronica Echolls," she said quietly. 

"Easily undone," he replied with a flippant wave of his hand and she gasped. "Or not, I don't care. At least if I get killed in action, you'll get something out of it. Doesn't matter to me where the Navy sends a check after I’m dead." He rose to his feet. 

"I'm going to your apartment to get my stuff, and then I'm going to stay on base. If I hang around and bug them, maybe they'll find somewhere to send me."

"Logan, please—"

"Bye, Veronica."


	12. The One Where Dick Saves The Day by KMD0107

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for something a little less controversial :)
> 
> We'll be pretending that Neptune PD has crime scene containment skills.

The message startled Logan; with all of the schedules he had to keep, you'd think the stupid street cleaning one would stick. But it never had.

"I'm moving the car," he called back to Veronica, with her odd decision to take a shower…now of all times. But if he didn't love her strangeness, he certainly wouldn't still be here.

Jane's question about if he still wanted to marry Veronica that morning, had taken him off guard. It wasn't like he hadn't questioned, many times, why he stayed. Thoughts of becoming Lynn or Aaron were what drove him to Jane's office in the first place. But he'd worked hard and understood that both he and Veronica were products of their trauma. That Veronica wasn't ready to confront that reality was not going to keep him from being with her.

He skipped down the last few steps and jogged across the alleyway to the dark blue rental car. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of Dick's response to Veronica's change of heart and their forthcoming wedding and honeymoon. Dick had insisted that Logan let him "put the magic Dick touch on the honeymoon" and send a surprise for the "_Happy Couple_." The asshole had said it just like that, air quotes and all.

Dick might be an ass, but he'd sent a convertible BMW just like the one Logan had traded in when he got his fancy bike. On top of that, Dick's PA had sent a confirmation for a vista cottage at _l'Auberge de _Sedona. No Groupon deals for this honeymoon.

In the end, Dick had saved them a hassle, since Veronica's car was stuck in the impound lot, being evidence and all.

"Hey Logan," Veronica's voiced called out from behind him.

He turned to see Veronica sticking her head out of one of their bedroom windows. "Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"Moving the car, you know, street cleaning," he said, pointing at the approaching parking enforcement car that was ticketing one of their neighbors.

"I've been thinking about what Penn said."

She has always had a way of picking the worst time for her revelations. "Can you hold that thought? I'll be up in just a second."

Logan acknowledged her nod with a brief wave and got into the rental. He wrapped his fingers around the supple leather of the steering wheel, relaxed back into the driver's seat and pressed the ignition. The car purred beneath him. He missed this car.

A quick look in the rearview mirror revealed the enforcement car moving his way. Logan accelerated out of the parking spot and around the corner, letting the force press him into the seat. The drive to Sedona was going to be a lot of fun.

He got the car situated in a zone that would be safe for the next few hours and jogged back up to the apartment. As he entered the flat, he could hear the water running and Veronica humming or maybe singing. He was struck with inspiration and slipped off his coat and began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

As he approached the bathroom, he heard the shower curtain slide along the rail. "Are you back?" Veronica's voice called out.

"Yep, Dick's present is safely parked in a no-ticket zone."

"Well, thank God for Dick," she said with a laugh, the shower curtain sliding back into place.

"My thoughts exactly," Logan said, kicking off his slacks and boxers.

Logan pushed the shower curtain aside, revealing Veronica. She had her head bowed under the steamy spray with her arms braced against the wall, bent over, letting the water run down her back. Logan stepped into the shower and took hold of her hips, pulling her against his now straining erection.

"Mmmm, I was hoping you'd help me clean up."

"What I have in mind will not get you cleaner."


	13. The One Where Logan Does Not Propose by Marshmellow Bobcat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It works out, I promise :)

A month before he’s set to return to Neptune, Logan is granted three days of leave. He should have known that planning to explore Naples with his buddies would lead to nothing good. What else can you expect from guys with terrifying names like Stewbeef, Purge, and Big Bird?.

He agreed to go to one bar. One. But a little too much Negroni, and a lot of protesting that his girlfriend doesn’t _ want _ to get married, led to this moment. Four drunk, burly Navy bulls in a delicate, boutique jewelry store. 

He glances up from a display case of glittering diamonds as his wobbly comrades roam the space, leaving one of the store’s decorative crystal vases teetering in their wake. 

“Careful!” He winces. “Those vases are Baccarat. That one’s like $5,000.” 

That causes a round of good natured jeers over his rich boy sensibility and Logan shrugs. Aaron spent a lot of time trying to imitate Baccarat during his glassblowing phase. 

“$5,490 to be exact.” 

Logan turns back to the rings to see a beautiful, middle aged, Middle Eastern woman behind the counter. She’s well dressed, in a suit the color of berries with a name tag that simply says “Ester”, and she’s eyeing the drunken sailors with amusement—and a touch of avarice. Almost like she’s hoping they’ll break it so they have to buy it. 

“Your friends should be more cautious.”

Her voice is like honey, distinctive in a crowd, and despite the black hair, the darker complexion, he’s reminded painfully of Veronica. 

Veronica, who he can’t wait to go back to. Veronica, who would castrate him if she knew he was here. 

“Guys,” he calls again. “I promise. Veronica does not want to marry me.” 

Ester raises a well manicured brow and Logan sends her a grin and a wink. 

Lieutenant Kevin Ricks breaks away from the group and saunters over to Logan’s side, peering down at the engagement rings with him. “She says that, Mouth, but she just doesn’t want you to think she wants to get married.” 

“Was that English?” 

Ester gives a smooth chuckle. “Perhaps you’re not asking her properly.” She pulls out a black velvet sheet of rings and lays them in front of Logan. 

Ricks bumps his shoulder. “Just pick one, Mouth.” 

Logan surveys the rings again. Nothing stands out, and he knows Veronica’s feelings on it. 

Suddenly a crash rings through the air, the unmistakable sound of glass shattering.

Logan groans and meets Ester’s steady gaze. She’s likely the type to either let it go, or report them for misconduct depending on her mood.

He plucks a ring from the display. “How much?”

“$7,490.” Her smile is benign, but the look in her eyes is pure mischief. 

“Wrap it up.” 

While she ties an elaborate bow, that he’s just going to have to remove so Veronica doesn’t strangle him with it, he spots the display of men’s wedding rings. 

One in particular catches his attention. It’s a wide, rounded platinum band with a gold inset that looks like a cable, or a rope. 

As he imagines himself wearing it, imagines her promising for better or worse, calling her his wife, it dawns on him. Veronica may not want a ring, but he does. 

Ester returns, sliding the beautifully packaged ring box in front of him. 

Looks like he just bought a conversation starter. 

* * *

Sitting in front of a military-monitored computer, Logan reads through his emails. 

A few from Wallace. Noah’s been sick, and he’s worried it’s something serious. Alarmed, Logan opens one from Shae and relaxes. Noah’s fine, just a cold and a slight fever; Wallace is overreacting. He’d love to give Wallace and Shae the night off, or just snuggle the baby. Neither mention Veronica and Logan wonders if her cutting commentary is falling flat with the worried parents.

He really hates that he misses not just the big moments, but little moments like this. The moments that become memories, stories told over dinners and holidays. The moments that build family. He replies to the Fennels with his love and well wishes, hoping it doesn’t come off sulky. 

Toggling over to Amazon, he orders Noah a stuffed lion in doctor’s scrubs. No wussy bears for his Godson. He signs the card, “Get Better Soon! Love, Uncle Logan and Aunt Veronica.” 

Next, he reads the updates from Veronica’s dad. Keith is still trying to figure out how to tell Veronica that he wants to retire. He sounds tired, jaded. Unhappy. 

Logan assured him that Veronica will understand—if Logan can tell how unhappy Keith is from one email, his observant and nosy not-wife probably knows exactly what her father is up to by now—but Keith’s not so sure. 

Logan tries again to convince him to just talk to her. Veronica doesn’t like change, but she loves her dad, and she wants him to be happy. Deep down, Keith knows that.

When he's finished with Keith's messages, Logan gives the emails from CW a cursory scan. It’s always the same offer. Come to Istanbul, work for me. 

Wiedman Securities wants to expand from high-end home and corporate security to personal security as well. Clarence has been after him for months to head the initiative. 

Better pay, less travel. The same deal that lured Mac overseas to head their Global Cyber Security team. He’s tempted.

Like Keith, he gets tired too. He’s tired of missing birthdays, and babies, and not being able to control his own schedule. Tired of seeing the silent hurt in Veronica’s eyes every time he leaves, tired of having to break back through her shell every time he comes home. 

This would be the perfect excuse to try something new with his life. It’s something he thinks he could really enjoy. He lets his imagination wander, than snorts to himself. He’d get Veronica to wear the engagement ring before he could convince her to move to Istanbul.

His cursor hovers over delete, when a new bullet point catches his eye. _ You can choose your base of operations. _Logan removes his hand from mouse, sits back in his chair. 

In addition to Istanbul, Wiedman Securities has offices in China, Dubai, and Germany. And they also have offices across the US. He keeps the email. 

Moving on, he mentally prepares himself for Veronica’s messages. He saved the best for last and he’s eager to hear what’s happening in Neptune, her version of Wallace’s overprotective daddy routine, if she knows her dad is avoiding telling her something. 

He’s disappointed to see she doesn’t include much personal information in her messages. It’s mostly about her cases. Some anecdotes about Pony. A lot of complaints about the Spring Breakers arriving to Neptune in droves. Nothing about their friends or even about her dad. 

Everytime he deploys, that shell starts to harden earlier and earlier. He’s afraid that one day, he’s going to come back and find her turned to stone. And he’s not going to be able to break through. 

Logan sighs and logs off. Their conversation is going to be a marathon. 

* * *

When Logan gets back to Neptune, the homecoming euphoria overtakes him. The minute he spins her through the door, she melts into him. There’s no hesitation in her touch, no hardness in her eyes. 

She brushes her fingers over his bruised shoulder blade and her grip turns into a vice. It almost hurts, but then she gently smooths her palms over his back and the tenderness makes his heart ache. 

He’s overreacting. She’s happy. She just misses him, and she’s scared for him. Things will be fine now that he’s home. Even better if he accepts CW’s offer. 

Then she twines her limbs around him, and all thoughts cease. 

When they’re sated, he basks in the post-coital bliss, pulling her to his side to curl an arm around her waist, cradling her in the crook of his shoulder. The weight of her, the feel of her, is heavy and warm. It’s home. 

She snuggles in and stretches an arm across his abdomen so her fingers can interlace with his free hand. To his relief, she tells him about her life for the past five months. _ See? Nothing to worry about. _

But as the words flow, a knot grows in his stomach.

There’s a note of condescension when she talks about her clients, a blasé tone when she mentions her father, a detachment when she talks about Wallace. 

She winds down, craning her neck to place a kiss on his jawline. “So, what’s new with you?” 

At the touch, he almost loses his resolve. But… she hadn’t even known Noah was sick. 

“Well,” he says as he pulls her closer. “I bought an engagement ring.”

Predictably, she shoots up, pulling out of his embrace, as if she can physically distance herself from the non-question. 

“Relax, Veronica.” He rolls his eyes. If he ever does propose he’s going to hide her shoes first. Maybe block the exits. “Do you see a ring?” 

Her brows draw together, but she doesn’t lay back down, just plants herself more firmly into the mattress and draws the sheet over her chest. “No.” 

“It’s a long story, but I bought the ring because I had to. I’m not proposing.”

Insult spreads across her face, and he feels a little sorry, until the look settles into relief. She doesn’t even press him for the story, and that bothers him, concerns him more than anything.

Logan sits up against the headboard. “Do you even want to know why I’m not proposing?” 

“You know how I feel about marriage. Look at my pare—.” 

He holds up a hand, halting her words. He does know her excuses—sorry, _ reasons— _and he doesn’t want to debate or argue. He wants to have a conversation.

“Veronica, I love you. I do.” He takes a deep breath. “But... we're not on the same page.”

“Why are you doing this, Logan?” Her gaze bounces around their bedroom and he leans toward her, catching her chin with his fingertips, forcing her to meet his eyes. “We’re not getting married. What else is there to say?” 

“Are you happy, Veronica?”

“Of course I’m happy.” She jerks her face out of his hand. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

_ That’s what he’s trying to figure out. _

“You tell me. You don’t act like you’re happy. You act like you’re stuck, with no power to change your circumstances.” 

“Oh, did your therapist tell you that?” 

His jaw clenches at the dig on his therapy. _ A conversation, not an argument or a debate. _ Logan takes a deep breath and counts to three. _ Calm. _

“You’ve been demanding that I change for years. And now that I have, now that I’m finally getting my shit together, it’s not good enough for you?” he snaps. So much for therapy. “What is it, Veronica, because _ you _ didn’t ‘fix me’ it doesn’t count? Doesn’t matter?” His voice breaks over the last word, _ damnit, _and her face softens. 

“No. I…of course I’m glad that you’ve gotten your life together.” She reaches for him. 

“Don’t.” He can’t touch her right now. He’ll cave, let it go. _ Now or never. _

“Logan,” she speaks gently, “you weren’t, you’re not, broken.” 

“Neither are you.” His eyes bore into hers. “So why do you insist on being unhappy?”

“This again,” she mutters. “I told you I’m fine. I do what I want with my life.” 

“No you don’t, not really. You’re different, Veronica. Hard. Mean. And that was fine in high school. Get tough, get even. But who are trying to get even with now? If you’re living how you choose, why are you so miserable?” 

She crosses her arms and presses her lips together, averting her face. But she doesn’t declare it’s too much, so he presses further. 

“If I’m not what you want, say so.” It would kill him. But if he’s hurting her, if she’s indulging him out of habit rather than love, this needs to end. He’s spent his life standing next to unhappy women, wondering why he wasn’t enough. 

She still doesn’t reply. Doesn’t look at him. 

“If you don’t want to live in Neptune, that’s your call, too. Are you really happy? In Neptune? With me?”

“Well, you’re never in Neptune, are you?” she snaps, and then her eyes widen, fly to his in shock.

It’s the one thing she’s never thrown in his face, his dedication to the service. The fact that he has to leave so frequently because of it. She doesn’t like it, he’d wager she actually hates it, but she’s never asked him to quit or given him shit for doing his job. But this is about her, not him.

“What if I wasn’t a factor? What if your dad wasn’t a factor? What would you be doing?” 

“I would be sticking my head in the oven, because the two most important people in my life would be gone.” Her voice waivers but doesn’t crack.

“I didn’t say we were going to die. This isn’t a soap opera. Stop being melodramatic.” 

Her mouth pops open and he leans close to close it shut with a gentle finger. “I said, take us out of the equation, what would you do?” 

She meets his gaze and he doesn’t blink, waits patiently, for a beat. Two. Three. 

Her shoulders sag. 

“I’d leave.” Her eyes mist over. “I hate Neptune. Every day it just gets worse and it’s killing me.” Tears start to fall. 

“Okay, okay. Come here.” He draws her to him, laying her on his chest. She curls up in a fetal position, wedging her head under his chin, and he hugs her to him. 

“Nothing I do here matters, Logan. I came back to fight, and I’m losing.” 

He kisses her hair. He thinks they’re just starting to win. “Do you still want to be a PI?”

“Yeah…”

“What if we moved? You can be a PI anywhere.” 

“Wouldn’t that be giving up? Admitting defeat?”

“Veronica, you only lose if you’re not happy.” 

“Jane again?” But there’s no malice in it. She’s quiet, running her fingers along his chest as if memorizing the lines. They talked a lot today and got farther than he thought they would. 

He stretches to turn out the light, but her voice stops him. 

“I, um, received a lot of offers after Carrie’s case, from all over the country. People wanting the Private Investigator who got Logan Echolls off murder charges.”

_ Three times. _

He brings his hand back to encircle her. “Okay.” 

“Washington State, New York, even random places like Indiana. I still get them sometimes.”

He’s surprised she’s never mentioned it. But she’s clearly thought about it. “Would you want to do that? Travel the country solving cases?”

She’s silent again, fingers walking up his chest, smoothing back down, and starting over again. It’s comforting, it makes him feel connected, like she’s in this with him. 

“I tried leaving before. It didn’t work. What if—” She hesitates. “—what if I can never be happy? What if that’s not in the cards for me?”

“Veronica, you’re not your mother.” 

She stiffens, and he gives her shoulder a reassuring stroke. It took him a long time to realize he wasn’t his mother. Or his father. And sometimes Jane still has to remind him.

“When you were in New York, you weren’t there for you. You were there for your dad, and because you have this weird hang up about being normal.” 

“Hey!” 

He laughs as he catches her poking finger. “Are you done with your cases?”

“Yeah, I wrapped up my last one today.” She shifts against his chest to frown down at him. “Why?” 

He has a few phone calls to make, and he’ll talk to her before making any final decisions, but he thinks he has a way to see if she’d be happy somewhere else. 

“Take the week off, go away with me. We can leave in the morning.”

“Okay.”

He blinks. He expected an argument. 

“I have to know where we’re going though.” She bends her head down, nose touching his. “The suspense is killing me. I thought this wasn’t a soap opera.”

The curiosity, the teasing, her touch all work to ease the last knot in his stomach. 

“It’s not.” He rolls them, covering her body with his, and kisses her forehead. “It’s a romance.” 

* * *

It takes them longer than expected to get everything in order. They need a sitter for Pony, and Logan has those calls to make. But by 3 pm, they’re on the road, and by 4:30, Veronica is putting away as much manicotti as she can manage at an Italian restaurant in the Gaslamp District.

Pleasantly stuffed, they stroll back to the car, hand-in-hand. 

“You know, when you said ‘go away with me,’ I thought: Tahiti, Barbados, San Tropez.”

Logan raises her hand to his lips for a kiss. “Did you want to go to San Tropez?”

“Not really. But,” she sighs, “shirtless men, endless beaches.” 

“Would you like me to take my shirt off?” 

“Well...” She tugs him to the side of the street, and presses herself against him, slipping her arms around his waist under his gray blazer. “Now that you mention it.” 

He takes the full weight of her against him, leaning heavily onto the brick building at his back, and nearly gives into her, but it’s another two hour drive to their final destination of Point Loma and these things require privacy. And time. Lots and lots of time. 

He pulls away, nipping at her lips. “Contain yourself, woman.” 

She pouts back at him, and he considers just getting a hotel in the area, but his phone vibrates, breaking the spell. He digs in his pocket for it, but keeps her close against his chest. His eyebrows raise at the caller ID. 

“Hey, Keith.” 

To no one's surprise, Veronica plucks the phone out of Logan’s hand. “Hi, Dad. Why are you calling Logan?” 

Logan gives her butt a squeeze, but she doesn’t retaliate. 

“No, my phone is off, what happened?”

She’d miraculously shut it off during dinner. 

She sucks in breath, and puts the phone on speaker, tilting it up between them. 

_“Everyone’s fine—“ _

“Dad, you’re on speaker with me and Logan, now. Say it again.” 

Logan holds her closer as Keith explains.

_“Ah, there was an explosion. A bomb. The Sea Sprite. Three people died.” _

“What happened?” Veronica demands.

_“They’re not sure yet, but Cliff is going to keep me informed.”_

“Dad, we’re coming home.” 

_“No, honey, you’re safe where you are. And there’s nothing for you to do here anyway.” _

“I can help, with the case—“

_“What case?”_

“You said Cliff was keeping you informed.” She throws a confused glance at Logan. “I assumed that meant you were investigating for one of his clients.”

_“No, honey.”_ Apology laces his voice. _“He did pass our card to one of the victim’s families, but I referred them to Vinnie.”_

“Vinnie?” She frowns.

Logan studies her carefully, then kisses her temple as understanding dawns in her eyes. 

_“I’m tied up with the rats at Hu’s,”_ Keith continues, _“and with you away…” _

“It’s okay, Dad. I get it.”

And Logan thinks she finally might. 

After she hangs up, with promises to steer clear of Neptune, they walk back to the car in silence. 

Her dad’s fine. And Logan knows for a fact that she can spend at least nine years not giving a shit about anything—or anyone—else in Neptune. And she claims she hates the place. But…

“Where are we headed?” 

She sends him an unwavering stare. “Point Loma.” 

Hope fills him, but he needs her to be sure. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, Dad’s right. There’s nothing I can do in Neptune, and I don’t….” Her shoulder jerks. 

“Point Loma.” She finishes firmly. “I’m going to text Wallace, make sure he and Shae and Noah are okay.” She pulls out her phone and sends a message.

“Okay,” Logan relaxes and swings their joined hands between them. Texting Wallace. That’s good.

“Oh, no.”

_ Oh no. _ “What happened?” _ This time. _

“One of Wallace’s students. Her dad died in the explosion.” 

“That sucks.” 

To anyone else his response would sound callous, but he knows that in those two words Veronica hears: I was about the same age when my girlfriend died. And my mom. And my dad. And it still hurts.

“Yeah, it really does.” 

She tosses her phone into her bag. “So, what unnecessarily expensive hotel are we staying at this week?” 

“You’ll see.” 

* * *

“Logan, this is a house.” 

“Good eye, Veronica,” he mutters as he punches in the code and drives through the wrought-iron gates. 

They both spot the car sitting in the driveway at the same time. 

Logan smiles. 

Veronica frowns. “Did you buy a house?” 

“No,” he assures her as he pulls up behind the black SUV. 

A well-built man in a fitted T-shirt and jeans steps out, and waits for them to approach.

“So help me, if that’s a real estate agent—”

“Veronica, I didn’t buy a house.” 

He rented it. 

She squints at him, then snaps open the seat belt and opens the door. 

Logan exits as well, striding over to his friend and greeting him with a handshake and one armed hug. He steps back, and gestures between his friend and girlfriend.

“Veronica, meet Stewbeef. SB, this is Veronica.” 

The two eye each other skeptically as they shake hands, Stewbeef looking at Veronica’s left hand, and Veronica squinting at him as if she can glean the origins of the man’s nickname by stare alone.

“Let's go inside.” 

Veronica might be a bit more amenable to his request if she has food in front of her. Logan enters the house, following the AirBnB host’s instructions, and leads them into the kitchen to talk. 

As promised, there’s a basket of muffins and a bowl of fruit on the kitchen island.

Logan holds an apple in front of her and she stares at it until he switches it for a chocolate chip muffin. She nods, then settles into a stool opposite him. SB sits next to her. 

“So, Veronica,” Logan begins, “Stewbeef here needs a favor.” 

SB throws Logan a quick glance. He gives him a tiny nod, refraining from rolling his eyes. Subtlety is a lost art.

On cue, Stewbeef turns to her and grabs her hand, eyes wide. Hers narrow. 

“I need your help, Veronica.” 

Veronica’s jaw drops and she swings around to Logan.

“Very funny.” 

When he doesn’t respond, her eyebrows rise. 

“You brought me here to _ work _?” she squawks. 

Logan shrugs. “You like to work.” 

She can’t seem to help herself, and how else is she supposed to figure out if she wants to travel around the country solving cases? 

They’re only a few hours from home; he’s on extended leave. This is a low risk scenario for both of them to test the waters. A taste of what could be. 

Shock, indecision, and curiosity war across her face. 

Logan waits. He surveys his fruit options and grabs a juicy, red apple from the bowl. 

He’s hardly taken the first tempting bite when she leans toward Stewbeef. “What kind of favor?”

Logan grins. That’s his girl. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because... I didn't care that Veronica turned down Logan's proposal. And I don't think Veronica needs to be single to travel around solving mysteries if she wants to do that.


	14. The One Where Logan Goes To TAHITI by CattyK8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo… this was inspired by the knowledge that Lisa Rinna, who plays Lynn Echolls, also once played the SHIELD agent known as Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine in the _Nick Fury: Agent of SHIELD_ TV movie starring David Hasselhoff which the author doesn’t remember at all except for a vague vibe of awfulness. Anyway, you don’t need to know anything about that movie to read this, but there are a few references to characters and events in the Avengers movies and _Captain America: Civil War_.
> 
> **WARNING:** This is a collection of stories where Logan Lives. He absolutely does. However, we warned you at the beginning that not everything would end with LoVe a certainty. If you’ve read previous chapters, you probably also know that Logan doesn’t always escape the bomb—but death doesn’t always stick. This is one of those fics that leaves things up in the air, and we hope you won’t skip it, but would also like you to proceed with caution given triggers mentioned below.****
> 
> **TW:** Description of severe bodily injury and major (if temporary) character death.****  


Nick Fury watched as the boy walked toward the car. The newly married couple chatted through the window of the apartment they shared.

He had nearly missed their wedding; he’d heard about it late, and hadn’t managed to watch the couple exchange vows. He’d followed them home, hoping to catch sight of the newlyweds before they left for their honeymoon.

He owed it to the boy to make sure he was happy, after all. Or, more accurately, the boy’s mother.

It had been 35 years since he’d sent Agent of SHIELD Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine on a mission with a backstopped identity as a dewy-eyed starlet looking to catch a big break among Hollywood’s rich, famous, and oh-so-corrupt. It had been 35 years since massive head trauma had left Val with complete amnesia, surrounded by people who’d only known her cover persona. Thirty five years since he’d walked into her hospital room and seen no recognition in the eyes of an agent he’d long called a friend. And left her there.

He’d followed her career after that. Had been both amused and bitter over the fact that the critics who’d dismissed Lynn Echolls as yet another talentless bimbo had lauded her acting in the roles she took on after the “car crash” that had nearly taken her life. She’d been purposefully bad at acting before; after losing her memory, she’d thrown herself whole-heartedly into her roles.

When she’d fallen for up-and-coming action star Aaron Echolls, he’d nearly pulled her out, memory bedamned. His gut had told him the guy was no good, and over the years he’d learned to trust his gut, no matter how much of a golden boy the actor seemed to be, at least in the media’s eye. But then she’d had the boy and had seemed to settle down into her life as a wife and mother. He’d left her to her life.

He might have looked her up, but then the Iraq War had started up, and that had been a HYDRA-instigated clusterfuck that had kept him way too busy to indulge in what was, at this point, a personal project. She’d come up on his radar again when her husband had been stabbed, supposedly by a floozy he’d bedded on the side. One among many, apparently.

And then she’d jumped off the Coronado Bridge.

He’d known regret then, for the friend he’d once had, for the life she’d lived with the man who’d proven to be a monster of the human kind, judging from the coverage of the Lilly Kane murder trial.

He’d kept an eye on her boy as best he could. Echolls had gone through a rough patch in college, and just when Fury had been all set to beat some sense into the boy, he’d up and joined the Navy. As a pilot. He’d gotten reports on the boy after that, had been proud of his progress if disapproving of his relationships. That Bonnie DeVille (_seriously? Like Cruella? _) had been no good for the boy’s heart or career. As was proved when he was framed for her murder.

He’d been all set to intervene in what was obviously a poorly conducted investigation when HYDRA had once again caused things to go FUBAR, and he’d found out that the damned Nazis had managed to infiltrate SHIELD. 

By the time he’d gotten things back on track, Echolls had been shacked up with his ex from high school, a blonde spitfire he might’ve considered recruiting if she’d shown any sign of being able to fit into an organization like SHIELD, given her inclination to go off half-cocked before taking the time to get a sense of the big picture. Her disrespect for authority and protocol were equally well documented. Echolls, meanwhile, had turned out to be an ace pilot and an even better naval intelligence officer.

When Fury had sent the Black Widow to vet them, she’d given Echolls a green light, but had cautioned against recruiting Mars with language stronger than she’d used in her assessments of Tony Stark. And added in the assessment that he hadn’t a hope in hell of recruiting one without the other—or getting them to work separately.

So he’d backed off. He got plenty of snark and more than his fair share of headaches from the Avengers and their affiliates; he didn’t need Mars and Echolls on top of that.

When he’d heard they were getting married, sudden nostalgia for an agent long-dead, for a time when he’d had friends in SHIELD rather than headaches and subordinates, had had him hopping on a jet to spy on the ceremony.

Coming out of his reverie, he gazed again at the boy, the one who’d inherited Val’s sharp intelligence and sharper wit, her flair for drama and compassion for her friends, and her unwavering sense of duty and honor. He hoped that, wherever she was, she’d be happy to see the light in the boy’s eyes, the giddiness in his movements as Echolls approached his wife’s car.

And then the world was a crash of sound and light and heat as the car exploded.

Fury was out of his own car in an instant, bending over the prone form of the only casualty of the bomb, one Logan Echolls. He felt for a pulse, and found none. Looked into the boy’s ravaged face to see Val’s brown eyes staring sightlessly.

He swore.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

In a split-second decision, and cursing his own sentimentality, he hauled the body up, dragged it to his car. He pulled out of his parking spot with a squeal of tires and put the pedal to the metal as he made his way to the air strip where a jet was waiting to take him back to SHIELD headquarters.

As he drove, he called his second-in-command. Maria Hill picked up on the second ring.

“Hill,” he snapped. “Call Phil Coulson, have him report to HQ ASAP.” The agent had been killed by a Norse god prior to the Battle of New York and that goddamn alien invasion, but he’d managed to pull strings and use one of SHIELD’s top-secret projects to correct that mistake. And he might be a sentimental fool, but if there was some sort of afterlife, he’d be damned if he would look Val in the eye and tell her he hadn’t done whatever he could to save her son. 

“Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?” God _ damn _, Maria Hill was a gift. She was the best right hand he’d ever had. And a damn fine agent too. As evidenced by the fact that she wasn’t questioning him for calling when he’d logged today off as personal time.

“Yeah. Get read in on Project TAHITI, then call the agent in charge. I’ve got a new candidate for them, and they’ll need to act fast.”

“Project TAHITI? Didn’t you tell Agent Coulson you were shutting that down?”

“Yeah, well, SHIELD has a debt to pay.” And Nick Fury owed it to his old partner to make sure her boy got a chance at a full, long life. Logan Echolls was going to live, even if he had to use alien science to make it happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Project TAHITI (Terrestrialized Alien Host Integrative Tissue I) was a secret SHIELD project that enabled them to resurrect Agent Phil Coulson after he died in _The Avengers_.


	15. The One Where Pony Saves The Day by EllieBear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that in canon, Pony is a girl. RT just seemed to forget this detail.

“Okay, Pony…time to go!”

Veronica grabbed the dog’s leash off the hook, her mind checking off things on her mental To-Do list. White wedding dress—check. Hair and makeup—check. Flowers—check. Logan’s wedding ring—check.

Pony stood obediently in front of her, tail wagging as she looked up with those big loveable eyes. Clipping the leash to her collar, Veronica rubbed Pony’s head.

“You’ll have so much fun at Grandpa’s house while we’re on our honeymoon. He’ll feed you steak and ham and cheese—all the things mommy and daddy don’t let you have.”

Pony let out a happy bark of approval of this plan and made her way to the door, tail still wagging. Grabbing her keys from her purse, Veronica opened the door, letting the dog out before she turned to lock it.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but I’ll have to drop you off before the wedding though...I don’t think City Hall allows dogs and unfortunately, you aren’t a Paris-Hilton-size dog so I can’t stick you in my purse during the ceremony.”

Giving the knob a little pull, Veronica made sure everything was safely locked up. Safe. She was safe. Her dad was safe. She was about to marry Logan. This was it. Everything was going to be fine. After the craziness of the last few days, she could finally let herself feel like the world was making sense again. 

She realized last night, as she lay nestled in the protection of Logan’s arms, that this was the universe’s way of telling her what she needed. While she had initially run from Logan’s proposal, everything around her—her dream about Leo, Penn’s maniacal obsessions, Weevil coming in to rescue her and her father from certain death—just made her understand that in the midst of the chaos, it was Logan, and would always be Logan, who would be her calm in the middle of it all. When she felt herself go weak, he was always the one who was there to prop her up and remind her of her strength. And now it was finally time for them to commit completely to being together, forever. 

Hurrying down the stairs, she unlocked her car with her key fob, and pulled open the back door. “Okay, girl, hop in!”

Pony froze, a low growl emanating from the depths of her throat and Veronica’s brow wrinkled. “Come on, Pony. In!”

Standing firmly in place, Pony started barking, hard and long, eyes fixed on the back seat.

Fear rippled through Veronica, quickly pushing away any good feelings she had just seconds ago. Crouching next to her, she placed her hand firmly around Pony’s collar and glanced inside the back seat of the car.

“What is it? What do you see, girl?”

With a sharp bark, Pony lunged forward, pulling herself away from Veronica’s grasp. She shrieked as she fell backwards, landing hard on the cement. A split second later, Pony’s head emerged from the back of the car, a blue fabric backpack in her mouth. Veronica blinked rapidly as she processed what was going on.

“Oh my God…”

In a flash, Pony was running down the alley as fast as her legs could move. Scrambling to her feet, Veronica screamed after her.

“Pony! Drop the bag! PONY!”

Her body vibrated with panic as she watched Pony finally heed her command, droping the backpack behind a dumpster nearly a block away before turning and galloping back towards her. Fumbling through her purse, Veronica grabbed her phone and dialled 9-1-1.

“Yes. Hello? Yes, this is Veronica Mars—I need to be connected to Sherriff Langdon. I found the last one of Penn Epner’s bombs…”

As Pony approached, she knelt again, opening her arms to wrap her in a bear hug. The dog returned the affection by licking her face and she chuckled, rubbing her head.

“Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl?! Good Pony!” Wrinkling her nose, she realized she was still connected to the 9-1-1 operator and blushed. “No. Sorry. Not you. Just congratulating my wonder-dog on saving the day.”


	16. The One With Ms. Jetson by MrsKissyT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved Ruby Jetson, and I couldn’t pass up the chance to bring her back! That character had sooo much potential...
> 
> I firmly believe she would have continued to stalk and pester Logan and Veronica.

Veronica rested her head on Logan’s arm as they followed Wallace and Keith back to the car. The intimate ceremony at the courthouse was exactly what they’d wanted. Giving Logan’s hand a firm squeeze, Veronica relished in the giddy feeling still flowing through her as they crossed the parking lot. 

“I can’t believe we just did that,” he murmured into her hair, placing a quick kiss on the top of her head. “I can’t believe _ you _ just did that.” 

Touched by the awe in his tone, Veronica smiled as she raised his ring hand and kissed it. 

“Me neither!” Wallace chuckled, pivoting around to face them as he continued to walk backwards. “I mean, you _ do _ realize, Veronica...Echolls, y’all just got _ married_, right? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“What can I say? He’s had me since The Camelot.” She sighed contently, wrapping Logan’s arm around her shoulders, her own arm tucking around his waist. 

Wallace nodded and turned back to walk with Keith. Feeling a weightlessness she hadn’t felt in a long time, Veronica tucked herself closer into Logan’s side, giving him a tight squeeze. 

The reasoning for the impromptu wedding may have been half feeling like the world’s biggest idiot for being afraid of committing herself to Logan fully, and half guilt for her Leo sex dream that had felt way too real for comfort, but marrying Logan Echolls (Mars) was the best decision she’d ever made. She knew they had a ton of things to work through, a marriage wasn’t going to solve their issues, but she was willing to try things his way, as long as he was there with her. 

Her stomach began to rumble at that moment, naturally. “Hey, how about we head over to Mama Leone’s for lunch?” she said, deciding they could spend a little more time with her dad and Wallace before they took off to Sedona.

Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, Wallace nodded. “I’m always up for some pasta.”

“Veronica has rubbed off on you, I see,” Keith said with a smile. 

“Hey, if Veronica ever decided to give up the detecting, I see a lucrative food blogging career in her future. She’s even found places that _ Noah _ will eat. The woman knows what’s _ up_.”

“Can’t argue with the facts, Pops.” 

“I guess I can’t.” 

Wallace and Keith continued their conversation about Veronica’s frequent food haunts as the foursome made their way through the parking lot. The newlyweds trailed behind in comfortable silence, and they had nearly reached Veronica’s car when Keith came to an abrupt halt.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” he said, sounding amused. Beside him, Wallace just looked confused.

Veronica glanced up at Logan, then to whatever had caught Keith’s attention, cringing as she registered what she was seeing. 

“Hey...Ruby,” she said. “That’s an interesting look.”

The couple’s number one fan—fan being a kind word for...whatever she really was—stood in front of them, covered head to toe in glitter, silly string, smeared lipstick and what looked like confetti. She’d popped up at various points over the years, but it was safe to say seeing her today was not anticipated.

“You know, you could have_ at least_ sent me an _ actual _ invitation, instead of me having to find out from the Spotted website. I wouldn’t have had to rush all of...well... _ this_.” she grumbled, pointing to the current mess in her hair.

“We didn’t tell _ anyone_, Ruby,” Veronica pointed out.

“Uh, obviously you _ did_, otherwise _ they _ wouldn’t be here,” she huffed, waving her arm between Keith and Wallace. “Whatever, I would have found out anyway. Someone posted it in between my scheduled check ins.”

“Check ins? Wow, Supafly, you really _ do _ have your own fanclub,” Wallace said with a chuckle. 

Turning towards her BFF, who had gone from confused to highly amused by the current situation, Veronica gave him an exaggerated eye roll in lieu of explaining the conundrum that was Ruby Jetson.

“Who said I was checking on _ her_?”

Not sure what offended her more—Ruby’s insult, or the three men’s snickering at it—Veronica scoffed loudly. “Can’t have one without the other now,” she said, waving her hand between herself and Logan. “We’re kind of a package deal. It’s new.” 

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think I _ know _ that? Why _ else _ would I be here?” 

“Haven’t the slightest.” She was genuinely at a loss for why the woman did _ anything _ she did when it came to them.

“_ Someone _ has to be here to celebrate Logan. It’s his big day.”

“His big day? Thinkin’ it’s more like _ our _ big day.” Veronica shrugged, noticing Wallace and Keith had already left them for the car, probably wanting to get a safe distance away from the crazy person.

“Oh _ boo hoo _ . I’m _ so sorry_ you have to share the spotlight with someone else for once. God, Veronica. Don’t you know what this man does for a living? _ Serving _ our country? Fighting _ real _ crimes out there, with his _ intelligence_?” Veronica pursed her lips together to avoid snapping at her. “The man is a _ hero_, Veronica _ Mars_. And in _ my _ world, heroes are celebrated with decorated cars, _ hence _ the glitter fit. Geez, what kind of person do you take me for?”

Veronica felt the burning sensation of rage begin to materialize. Irritated that her treatment of Logan—which admittedly had _ not _ been so great over the last year or so — was being scrutinized by his _ stalker _ of all people, she pulled free of Logan’s grasp and stepped toward Ruby, jabbing at the air with her index finger 

“First of all, it’s _ Echolls_. Second, how to answer that? It’s _ possible _ that you’re a crazy psycho b-” 

“Oh-ho-kay, Mrs. Echolls. That’s enough out of your pretty mouth,” Logan interrupted,grabbing her gesticulating hand with one of his, and wrapping his other arm around her shoulders to pull her back into him. “Let’s not be rude to the woman that probably has the security code to our house, hmmm?” he murmured into her hair. 

“She started it,” she harrumphed, pushing her face into chest. 

“So, Ruby. I am all for celebrating the day I finally got this woman to marry me, and we were just about to do that at Mama Leone’s. Feel like joining us?” Logan asked. “As a...thank you, for your, uhhh, efforts.” 

Knowing he was right about Ruby, Veronica let out a long sigh before turning back towards their superfan. “Yes, please, join us,” she deadpanned, plastering what would probably be an obviously fake smile to anyone in their right mind.

Only when Logan gently elbowed her in the side did she let herself relax a little, enough to get a little bit of enjoyment from the look on Ruby’s face. One lunch with the woman wasn’t going to kill her, especially when said woman looked like she’d just won the lottery of her dreams. At least this time, their impromptu hang out wasn’t the result of blackmail.

Resigned to their fate, Veronica unlocked the car—smothered in streamers, silly string and only slightly more glitter than Ruby herself—with her fob and Logan opened both the driver’s side doors, waving Ruby into the back seat as she babbled on about her inspiration for the décor on Veronica’s car. Veronica slid into the front, giving a sarcastic salute to Wallace and Keith as they drove past them on their way out of the parking lot, both laughing hysterically. 

Logan made his way around the car, giving Veronica a wink as he folded himself into her passenger seat. Ruby immediately dropped her description of car decorating techniques she’d learned on Pinterest and leaned forward, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Why do you let her drive this old thing, Logan? I liked your car more. Remember when I sat in your front seat _without_ _panties_?” she crooned. 

“I can assure you, I will _ never _ forget that night,” Logan appeased, wrinkling his nose. 

“Hey, whose skeezy looking bag is this back here? It...smells. Come on guys, I expected better than ...whatever brand _ this _ is.”

“What are you _ talking _ about? There’s no bag back there - oh my god!” It only took one quick look for Veronica to realize that the bag Ruby was holding was the backpack Penn had insisted on bringing with him earlier that day. How the hell had she missed that? “Everyone, _ out_!”

Obviously recognizing the panic in her voice, Logan jumped out of the car and flung open the back seat door next to Ruby. 

“What? Why? Does this have to do with the backpack?” 

“Ruby! Out! NOW!” Logan commanded, urging her with a wave of his arm to get out of the car.

He placed his hands on her arms once she’d stumbled out, moving her off to the side before sliding into the back seat and carefully grasping the bag. He unzipped it slowly, revealing what Veronica had been hoping it wasn’t—Penn’s final bomb.

“Veronica, call 9-1-1. Ruby, stay back over there until the cops get here—I’m gonna defuse it. _ No one move _ until I say so, got it?”

Not waiting for a reply, Veronica pulled out her phone and dialed 9-1-1. “Yeah, hi. I need to report a bomb we’ve found in my car. Yeah, pretty positive it’s a bomb. Yeah, it’s armed, I can see the countdown clock. Balboa County Courthouse. Three minutes? OK, good, the timer’s set for 5:00 PM so we’ve still got time, but hurry, please! We’re in the waterfront parking lot.”

Ending the call, she slowly brought her arm down, watching with bewilderment as her husband worked to defuse the bomb. 

Ten minutes, a diffused bomb (thanks to Logan’s newly discovered skills), and a paramedic check later, the trio sat on the fountain's edge on the lawn in front of the courthouse. Nearly too late, the Neptune P.D. had finally decided to impound Veronica’s car as evidence, so they were awaiting the return of Keith and Wallace to give them a ride to dinner.

“So….” Veronica said, looking down at her feet as she swung them beneath her.

“So…” Logan’s long legs were stretched out in front of him, his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“About that bomb diffusing.”

“What about it?”

“Feel like sharing with the rest of class? Telling me how you know how to do that? Doesn’t seem like a skill most would have…” Veronica hoped prompting him to tell her would be easy enough if she just asked.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “Need to know only.”

“Don’t I need to know? I just found out my husband not only has these skills, but has been in situations where he’s possibly had to use them. I think that counts as ‘need to know’. 

Logan shrugged with a smile. She knew he was enjoying torturing her.

“You know what _ I _ wanna know?” Ruby blurted out. “I wanna know why I keep saving your asses without any reward. I just saved you two from being a horrible cliche — getting blown up on your wedding day. I think you owe me _ big _ time.”

Veronica groaned as she placed her head against Logan’s arm. Ruby continued to go on about what she was due. “_Please _ make it stop.”

Turning his face, Logan kissed the top of her head once before wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly into him.

“Hey, look at it this way. Now that Ruby knows that we got married today, we’re never going to have to remember our anniversary date for ourselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give it up for Ms. Jetson y’all...


	17. The One Where Logan Fakes It by CubbieGirl

“Veronica.” 

Her eyes pop open. Logan’s voice is so low in her ear, she’s not actually sure that he had spoken. Rolling over in bed to face him, she raises an eyebrow. It’s dim in their bedroom, probably the middle of the night, but her eyes start to adjust. 

She had accepted his proposal a few hours ago, and after he carried her to their bed, he had made love to her, his tenderness breaking down all her walls. They had taken things slow, making eye contact the whole time and barely speaking. The connection between them was so strong words hadn’t been necessary. After her brush with danger the night before, she had craved it. Then she had let him cherish and hold her afterwards, falling asleep in his arms. 

Now Logan puts a finger to his lips in the universal gesture for silence before pulling her closer to him and placing his mouth right over the shell of her ear. 

“Would you know if our place was bugged?”

Pulling back in surprise, she starts to speak, but he shakes his head. 

Positioning her own lips by his ear, she whispers, “Not without checking. Do I need to check?”

“Maybe later. You’ll have to be casual about it, accidentally bring the equipment home from work and bump it on or something. Right now, we need to make sure this is a very quiet conversation.”

She shifts to see him again, needing to read his expression. 

_ Who would have bugged their apartment? Why? _

“Veronica.” He keeps his eyes on her, their noses mere inches apart. “I’m gonna have to disappear for a while.”

A shiver of fear runs down her spine. 

“Disappear? What do you mean?”

“Some things happened at work...I think my identity’s been compromised.”

Ramifications rush through her mind, each more terrible than the last. 

“But we were gonna get married.” The words pop out of her mouth, and she winces at herself. 

_ Really, Veronica? That’s your first thought? Since when did you become that girl? _

Logan raises an eyebrow, smirking at her. 

“Anxious, are we?” He chuckles, rubs his hands up and down her back. “You finally said yes, and I’m holding you to it. Actually, sooner rather than later would be better for that. If we’re married, it’s easier for me to make sure you’re taken care of while I’m...gone.”

She nods, still whispering. “How much time do we have?”

“Not much. Think we can make that happen tomorrow? Day after?”

Veronica gulps. Not much time at all.

“Let’s do it in two days. Is that enough time?”

He places a tiny kiss on her nose. “Mmmhmm. Go back to sleep. And don’t be confused when we plan our wedding again, louder.”

Veronica turns over, and Logan pulls her close, a comforting presence against her back. Normally his solid warmth would be enough to lull her to sleep but not tonight. There’s no way she’ll be able to fall asleep after that conversation. 

“After I’m...gone, wait a few days before you pull the bugs. And be sure to blame a case,” he whispers in her ear. 

“Logan…” she breathes out, not knowing where to start. 

“I know you have questions. I promise to explain when I can, Bobcat. For now, you just have to trust me.”

She can’t decide what’s harder—trusting someone or not asking questions. But it’s Logan. If anyone is worthy of trust, it’s him. So she keeps silent. 

“Just know that no matter what happens, I’ll come back to you. Always.”

The same promise he’s made to her before every deployment, every mission. 

“I love you,” she whispers instead of pressing him for answers. 

* * *

It takes Veronica three days after Logan’s death to remember that conversation. She’s been too busy making funeral arrangements, dealing with the press and police statements, and fending off condolences. When it does dawn on her—as she’s doing the dishes, of all things—she’s so surprised, her breath rushes out of her in a gasp, leaving her shaking. She sinks to the floor, hands still covered in soap. 

He said he was going to disappear. Why didn’t she realize it instantly? Because “disappear” hadn’t equaled “dead” in her mind. Maybe she had just been so blindsided by losing Logan barely thirty minutes after their wedding and blowing the pizza bomber case. 

_ Thinking _ she blew the pizza bomber case. If the bomb going off was part of a plot to fake Logan’s death, then it’s not her fault. It's not her negligence that killed the love of her life. Relief washes over her in waves, and she starts giggling hysterically.

Pony ambles over, sniffs at the bubbles on her hands before lying down, pressed against her. 

“I have a secret, Pony. A good one. Can you keep a secret? Daddy’s—”

More appalled that she forgot about the bugs than that she’s just asked her dog if she can keep a secret, Veronica stops speaking. 

_ Be casual about it _ , Logan had said. _ Make the big sweep look like an accident. _

“Daddy’s gone,” she finishes lamely for anyone listening in. “But we’re gonna be okay, the two of us.”

She supposes she can keep from spilling the beans to her dog for another day or two. 

* * *

“Thanks for coming home from Istanbul for me,” Veronica prattles as she lets Mac into their—her—apartment, “and for staying with me.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it home in time for the funeral. Of course I’ll stay as long as you need.” 

Mac wraps her arms around Veronica’s shoulders in a loose hug before stepping back awkwardly. Her eyes are full of compassion, and Veronica can tell she doesn’t know what to say. 

Which is fine because Veronica can’t decide how to feel. One minute she’s screaming with joy inside because Logan’s still alive! And the next she’s sobbing because even if he’s not dead, he’s not here, and she doesn’t know when she will see him again. She has to figure out everything on her own. 

She can’t tell anyone, not even Mac or Wallace or her dad. Even if she told them about her conversation with Logan—which she is sure she can’t do—they wouldn’t believe her. She’s come up with a lot of crazy theories over the years that they have backed her on, but this one would be different. They’d look at her, a mix of pity and horror in their eyes, and they’d just think it was her grief talking. 

So she’ll keep it to herself and enjoy Mac’s company for a while. At least if she has someone to talk to—besides Pony—she can get the bugs out of her apartment and make it natural. She doesn’t think she would sound believable for whoever was listening if she faked stumbling on them by herself. After she remembered the possibility of listening devices the other night, she checked carefully but didn’t find the telltale glint of a camera lens anywhere. 

_ At least there’s that small mercy. _

“What sounds good for dinner? We could—“ Pretending to trip, she lets her messenger bag fall open, the contents spilling out. “Oh, shit. I’m so clumsy.”

Veronica plops down on the ground, fiddling absently with the small black box that has fallen to the floor as Mac rushes to pick up everything.

“It’s okay, Veronica, I’ve got it. Let me help.”

Nodding forlornly, she continues to sit in a miserable heap. 

“Mac, I think I’m losing my mind.” The tears that prick her eyes aren't fake. Thinking of Logan, it’s easy to let them come up to the surface. “I don’t even remember putting this is my bag. It should have stayed at the office.”

“Grief does funny things.” Mac puts her hand on Veronica’s shoulder as she idly twirls the dial, turning it on. “I was thinking we’d—“

Mac stops speaking as the scanner crackles to life, emitting a high-pitched whine. 

“What the hell?” She grabs the black box from Veronica. “That's a radio frequency detector, right? It listens for bugs?”

Veronica nods numbly, pretending disinterest. Then she remembers she needs to play it up for the people listening. Rousing herself, she meets Mac’s eyes. 

“Yes, if it’s making that noise, that means there’s a bug in the apartment.” Veronica scrambles up off the floor. “Help me find it. You just carry it around and when it gets close to a bug, it gets louder. Anything that emits a radio signal will trigger it.”

By the time they finish their scan of the small space, they’ve found three bugs—one attached to a picture frame in the living room, one under the lip of the kitchen counter, and one behind Logan’s nightstand. 

Mac stares at her, wide-eyed, as she holds the tiny listening devices in the palm of her hand. 

“Veronica, who would have…?”

“Planted them? Must have been Penn Epner. Just another offense against me, I suppose. I’m not the true hero, right, because I couldn’t save Logan?” 

Her voice wavers with tears. She knows he’s not dead but, dammit, it feels like he is, and she can’t stop crying. 

Mac puts a supportive hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. You know that, right?”

Veronica sighs, takes a moment to control her emotions. 

“No. It’s Penn’s fault, but I can’t help thinking if I had done something different, anything…” She trails off, then clears her throat. “Well, I doubt he’s listening from San Quentin, but just in case…”

Veronica takes the bugs into the kitchen and places them on the butcher-block countertop while she rummages through a cupboard. 

“Aha!” Brandishing a rolling pin, she holds it aloft, a wicked grin crossing her face. It may be the first time she’s smiled since her wedding. 

Mac jumps as she smashes the electronic devices into tiny bits, then sweeps the debris into the palm of her hand and dumps it into the trash. 

Brushing her hands together, she gives Mac a tremulous smile. 

“That felt good. What were you saying about dinner?”

* * *

Waiting for Logan is the hardest thing Veronica had ever done. She has to move on with her life, not only because everyone thinks she’s really grieving, but because she has to figure out how to actually live without him. 

She’s less upset about losing their—her—apartment than she expected. Staying in the same space with their shared memories helped keep him close but also gutted her. 

Her dad makes it sound like she should move in with him for his sake, to help him after his hip replacement, and she loves him for it. They both know he’s not the only one who needs help. 

Veronica has a twinge of worry as she packs up her meager possessions—_ what if Logan can’t find her if she leaves? _

But if he had the resources to fake his own death, he can find her in Neptune at her dad’s. 

Logan didn’t have much. She supposes losing everything in a fire in high school and then living much of his adult life in a tin can had taught him the mindful art of minimalism. But she can’t bear to throw away what he had left her—clothes, toiletries, some military trinkets. 

Logically, she knows he’ll buy a new toothbrush when he comes back, but throwing his away still feels wrong. So she places it carefully in the storage tote along with his running shoes and his favorite “Go Navy” ball cap. Most of his t-shirts, shorts, and button-ups have become part of her wardrobe. She doesn’t care about the weird looks she receives, swimming in men’s clothes three sizes too big. 

As she snaps the lid closed on the plastic tub, Veronica touches Logan’s dog tags, resting against her breast bone, through her shirt. He had taken them off for their wedding, leaving them on his nightstand, and she had been wearing them ever since. She doesn’t have a wedding ring to hang on the chain with them. They were going to pick one out for him in Sedona. 

Squaring her shoulders, Veronica resolves that buying him a ring will be the first thing they do when Logan comes back. 

_ Well, second thing _ , she amends. _ Clearly we won’t be leaving the bedroom for at least three days. _

* * *

“Hey, Ponygirl, how ya doing?” 

She’s the first one home from the office, and Pony greets her enthusiastically. She keeps her paws on the floor—like a good girl—but she frantically chases her tail and whines in the back of her throat, so happy to see her. Veronica drops the pile of mail on the floor in order to give her the proper amount of pats. 

“Are you ready to go out?”

If possible, the dog becomes even more excited. Her toenails keep up a staccato beat on the hardwood as she spins in a tight circle. 

“Okay, let me grab your leash so we can go on a W-A-L-K.”

At her words, Pony’s feet lift off the ground. She pushes on her chest, putting her back on the floor. 

“No, no, none of that. Daddy would be so disappointed.” She gazes into her soulful brown eyes, so much like Logan’s. It’s been almost a year since she’s seen him and it hasn’t gotten any easier. “And we can’t let him think that I’m spoiling you. Not too much, anyway.”

Grabbing the leash and clipping it onto her collar, she lets the dog pull her out the door and around the block of her dad’s modest neighborhood. 

When they return, her dad’s home from the office. He stands at the counter, tie loosened, sorting through the mail. Pony, calmer after her walk, ambles over to sniff Keith in greeting and then slurps a drink from her bowl. 

“Hey, honey. You’ve got mail.”

Veronica, toeing off her shoes by the door, looks up. 

“Nice AOL impression, Dad. Can you make the dial-up sound, too?”

Keith imitates a modem screech as she snatches the brown envelope from him. Tearing it open, a prepaid Tracfone drops into her hands. She doesn’t remember ordering a spare burner. Digging around in the envelope for the packing slip, she comes up empty. Flipping it over, she checks the mailing information. Amazon Fulfillment Services. 

_ What the hell? Who would— _

_ Logan _

“What’s that?” 

“Uh, nothing. Amazon had a good deal on burners the other day.” She tries to keep her voice light, her tone even. “Guess I had it shipped here instead of the office by mistake.” 

Keith shrugs. “I know you can’t pass up those Prime Day deals.”

“Online shopping, Pops. It’s the wave of the future.”

“Dinner tonight?” her dad asks, opening the pantry to survey the options. 

“Oh, I’m not hungry yet.” At his raised eyebrows, she adds, “I had a late lunch. I’ll eat later.”

It’s weird, living with her dad again and feeling like she has to make excuses to skip dinner. In truth, she can't wait to power up this phone and see if it holds any clues from Logan. 

After carefully examining it for over an hour, Veronica’s disappointed that it doesn’t. As far as she can tell, it’s brand new and only has the basic factory-default settings. 

Well, it doesn’t matter because she has it now. She’s ready whenever Logan can make contact. Watching the battery level rise, she turns the volume up as loud as possible. She can’t afford to miss his call. 

* * *

Veronica knows she should probably let Logan make contact before she does anything. But after keeping the phone with her 24/7—she bought both a waterproof case and a battery pack so she can literally have it on her person at all times—she’s sick of staring at it, waiting for it to do something. 

And, she reasons as she smooths the brown Amazon envelope flat on her desk, she doesn’t actually know it’s from Logan. 

It could be like the bugs in their apartment, laced with spyware to keep tabs on her. If that’s the case, she’s certainly providing them with all kinds of information. 

She’s pretty sure those bugs weren’t meant for her, but she wouldn’t be a very good detective if she doesn’t at least try to track the package. It would be irresponsible not to, she justifies. 

So she closes the door to her office and picks up her phone. Its from Amazon. _ How hard can it be? _

Harder than she expected, to be honest. 

Amazon doesn’t publish their customer service number on their website, so she has to submit a request and wait for them to call her. She spends those twenty minutes tapping her nails on her desk and willing either one of her phones to ring. 

Then, she has to explain the situation to every single person, multiple times. Because customer service transfers her to returns (accidentally) and they transfer her to shipping, who transfer her back to customer service. She’s been on the phone for over an hour. 

“No, I don’t want to return the phone, Dorinda, I just want to know who sent it. No, I don’t have the packing slip. Can I just talk to your superior?”

Finally, the fifth representative she speaks to—Jordan—is able to track down some information. 

_ “Well, Ms. Mars, it seems that your gift was paid for with a gift card, so we can’t trace the transaction.” _

She can’t help the sigh of frustration she huffs into the phone. 

“Can you figure out the name on the account that sent it?”

_ “Well, there’s not really a money trail since it was bought with a gift card. Do you want to return the item? Or report a problem?” _

“No,” she growls. “I just want to know who sent it.”

There's silence on the other end of the line. 

_ Come on, Veronica. Spin him a tale and work your magic. _

She tries to inject a soft note into her voice. “See, it’s actually a very sentimental gift—” 

_ “You said it’s a prepaid cell phone, right?” _Jordan interrupts, clearly confused.

_ Think fast, girl _.

“Yeah, um, I just want to know who sent it so I can...send them thank you note. I really, really needed a new cell phone and it was just so thoughtful and…” 

Veronica lets her voice waver a little bit, getting ready to launch into a sob story but the threat of tears must work.

_ “Uh, okay. It’s fine, ma’am. Normally I’m not allowed to do this," _Jordan’s deep voice holds a promising note, _ “but I might be able to…” _

Veronica can hear his fingers typing in the background. _ Please, Jordan. Give me something I can work with. Anything. _

_ “Ah, here we go. The gift’s from...a J. Doe.” _

Laying her head on her desk, she groans. “Email address with the account?”

_ Not like it will get me anywhere... _

_ “Jdoe@gmail.com,” _he rattles off. 

A dummy account. She’s sure of it. She had just spent—she checks her watch—two hours on the phone, and all she knows is that she isn’t going to find out who sent her the burner phone. 

_ “If you would just stay on the line and take this survey for us—” _

“Sorry, Jordan, I’ve gotta go. Have a nice day.”

Hanging up, she glares at both phones. She’s another step closer to Logan; she should be jumping for joy. But the interminable wait for him to make contact is almost worse—

_ No. _

She cuts herself off. 

_ Logan is alive. This is just another step in the process of getting him back. That’s all that matters _. 

* * *

Veronica spends the next week burning off her nervous energy in various ways—scrubbing her dad’s house from top to bottom, reorganizing the files at the office, going for long runs around the neighborhood with Pony. But it's no use. The phone never leaves her side or her thoughts. Her behavior over the last year has been erratic enough that her dad doesn’t even comment on her actions. 

When her phone wakes her up in the middle of the night, she fumbles around her nightstand before she realizes it's not her phone ringing but _ the _ phone, the burner next to her in the bed. 

There’s no number on the screen, it just reads “Blocked.” Her fingers shake as she hits the green “accept” button. 

She wants to say something quippy— “How’s the afterlife?” Or, “Long time no see, Sailor,” but she can’t manage it. This is too important.

“Hello?” she whispers. 

_ “Veronica,” _Logan breathes softly. 

“Are you—where are you?”

_ Are you okay? Why has it been a year since you’ve been able to contact me? When can I see you? _

Her brain’s on overload, jammed with questions.

_ “Have you ever wanted to visit Cuba, Veronica?” _

The sound of Logan’s voice on the line makes her so giddy, she barely registers what he’s saying at first. 

“Uh...you know, I’ve been feeling the need to get out of Neptune. A poor communist island in the Caribbean sounds just about right.” 

_ “It’s really not that bad. Is a week enough time for you to get here?” _

“A week?” She’s incredulous. “I’ll be there tomorrow if it means I get to see you.”

It’s his turn to be silent. _ “I—tomorrow? Really?” _

“Logan, it’s been 376 days. Yes, tomorrow.”

He laughs, and it’s the best thing she’s ever heard. 

_ “Okay, tomorrow it is. Book your flight and I’ll be at the airport to pick you up.” _

“Tomorrow. I’m seeing you tomorrow.” It’s all happening so fast, she can’t quite believe it. 

_ “Want me to sing about it, Annie? Tom—morrow, tom—” _

“That won’t be necessary.” She cuts him off. It’s clearly Logan, singing show tunes off-key. “But—”

_ “Veronica. Just come, and I’ll explain everything.” _

Her heart soars. Tomorrow, she’ll have Logan and answers. Her two favorite things.

“Okay. Logan, I, I don’t want to hang up the phone.”

_ “I know. But I promise. And I always…” _

“Keep your promises,” she finishes for him. 

_ “I love you, Veronica.” _

He hangs up, but it doesn’t sting. She falls back to sleep clutching the phone tightly to her chest. Everything—pretending Logan is dead, losing her apartment, the permanent ache of missing him—will all be worth it. Tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve only had to call Amazon customer service a few times, but in my personal experience, they’ve been quite nice. That’s not what Veronica encountered here but I just wanted to be clear—this fic is not meant to reflect badly on Amazon.


	18. The One Where Lilly Saves The Day by Chikabiddy

“What’s the time difference in Fiji?” Veronica yells down through the window.

Logan quirks his brow up at her.

“Penn’s limerick,” she clarifies. “‘Midday ‘round Fiji’?”

Logan sees the meter maid driving up behind him; he holds his finger up to them while calling to Veronica: “Yeah, hold that thought.” He looks back to the waiting car, waving his hand to show them the keys. “I’m movin’ it.”

He sighs at the ridiculousness of a 5 pm street cleaning, but turns his attention back to his task, pulling at the door handle when a flash of green catches his eye. 

He spins to follow the movement and sees, clear as day, Lilly Kane dashing around the corner of their apartment building. 

“What the hell?” he mutters to himself as he takes off after her. If Lilly Kane is here to haunt him twenty years after her death, he’s going to find out why. 

It’s not until he is around the corner that a blast rings out behind him, throwing him to the ground and piercing his ear drums. The ground spins beneath him, keeping him off balance and muddying his focus. All he can think is_ Veronica _. Pushing himself up, he notices a hand in front of him. He follows the arm up to see Lilly, offering to help him to his feet. 

She feels entirely solid in his grip, and much stronger than he imagined a ghost would be. He uses Lilly for leverage, putting as much weight as he can on her while he struggles to his feet. Getting his bearings after the blast is proving difficult, and he feels extra grateful for Lilly as he sways into her.

“I’ve got you, lover boy,” she reassures him. 

Lilly wraps one of his arms around her neck and snakes her other around his waist as he hunches letting her support his weight. His head swims, keeping him from fully focusing on her or the ground beneath his feet. 

He manages to croak out, “Veronica.”

“She needs you, Logan. More than ever.” 

Lilly pulls on him lightly, encouraging his feet to move. His reflexes and training finally kick in. He walks forward with Lilly, one foot in front of the other, steadier with every step. 

“I know you noticed how different she’s been lately,” Lilly continues, relaxing her grasp and letting Logan support himself. “She knows something’s wrong with her, and with your relationship. Our Veronica has never been an idiot.”

Logan almost chuckles, but remembers his ribs are likely injured from the blast and swallows the impulse.

“But she is stubborn. So stupid stubborn. You know that better than anyone.” 

Lilly is rambling but Logan doesn’t mind. It helps distract him from the pain and focus on climbing up the stairs to their apartment. Glass crunches under his feet and the smoke burns down his throat into his lungs. 

“You’re getting through to her, Logan.”

He can’t think about whether that’s true or not, can’t dwell on whether he is helping Veronica or holding her back. Not now, not when he needs all his strength to get to her.

Mercifully, they’ve made it to the front door. Lilly lets go of Logan and he leans on the wall for support instead. She pushes open their door and Logan moves to step into the apartment but Lilly grabs his arm. He turns to look at her, ignoring the strain the motion puts on his neck. 

“Don’t give up on her.”

“Never,” he vows. Squeezing her hand, he turns away. “Thank you, Lils.”

Entering the apartment, he sees her fade away out of the corner of his eye. 

_ Veronica _. Nothing else matters right now but finding her and making sure she is okay. He doesn’t know how bad the blast was and cannot dwell on the what if. Concrete proof of Veronica being safe and well is what he needs. 

He stumbles through the apartment; the ten long strides it usually takes him to get to the bedroom extending to thirteen faltering steps. He lurches the last step into their room and there she is, lying on the bed, unmoving. For a moment, his heart stops, but he’s been trained for this. Trained for horror and shock. 

Her eyes are closed but catches the slight rise and fall of her chest. He can breathe again. She looks fine, other than some cuts on her face, but he knows looks can be deceiving. 

“Veronica?” He calls to her as he walks across the room. “Veronica, can you hear me?”

Her eyes fly open and she’s off the bed crashing into him before he can blink. She’s crying and mumbling something he can’t understand but he thinks he probably knows what she’s feeling right now. He wraps her in his arms and they fall together to the floor, clinging to each other with relief and gratitude. 

Lilly’s words come back to him. _ “She knows there’s something wrong with her.” _

Even though they just got married, this is the first time in a long time he’s felt that she cares, that she wants him as much as he wants her. They have more work to do, he knows. But for now he takes comfort in knowing he’s not the only one invested in their relationship. 

They’re still on the floor, arms wrapped around each other when the sound of sirens fills the air. Logan realizes he should have called the police himself, but they’re on their way now. And they’re both safe. And that’s really all that matters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I envisioned this being Lilly saving Logan similar to how she saved Veronica in s2. I originally ended it with Logan getting up from the bomb, no ghost!Lilly lingering, but it felt unfinished. So I hope you enjoyed the extra Lilly!


	19. The One Where Logan Goes To Hell by EllieBear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is dark. Really dark. Like, scarred my poor friend and Beta, Irma66, because I didn't warn her, dark. So if you want to go and reread something else today, I completely understand.
> 
> TW: **major** character injury; mention of child abuse; heavy angst; hopeful ending  


_ “__Like a bat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes _ _   
_ _ But when the day is done _ _   
_ _ And the sun goes down _ _   
_ _ And the moonlight's shining through _ _   
_ _Then like a sinner before the gates of Heaven _  
_I'll come crawling on back to you”_

The ringing in Logan’s ears finally stops. Opening his eyes, he finds himself sitting in a black room on a metal chair. In front of him is a door with a golden knob but as he looks around he realizes there is no other exit. Slumping slightly in the hard chair, he runs his fingers through his hair, exhaling loudly. The room is lit, but there is no light bulb above him and no other visible light source. It reminds him of that one interrogation in Kabul, where his mind started to play tricks on him, but after you’ve been waterboarded once, you tend to build up a psychological tolerance to such things. That was one of the things he had going for him in the intelligence game—growing up with physical and psychological torture from a parent made him immune to that of strangers, relatively speaking.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he tries to remember what happened before he landed here. He remembers Veronica staring down at him from their apartment. He was in the back lane, about to move their car before the street cleaners came. But then, there was the blast. Frowning, he glances around again. By all reason, he should be in a hospital, but this wasn’t it. Doing a scan of his body, he feels no pain. In fact, he feels oddly light—like nothing he’s ever felt before.

The door opens and Logan blinks at the tall man in the black suit who enters. _ It can’t be. There must be some mistake _…

“Hello, son. Welcome to Hell.”

Standing quickly, Logan knocks the chair backwards and it falls to the ground with a loud crashing sound which echoes in the small space. Aaron smirks at Logan, deep lines creasing his cheeks as he removes a black file folder from under his arm and opens it in front of him. He has a full head of beautiful chestnut hair, like he did when Logan was younger, before the hair plugs, and his face lacks the deep leathery look that too much California sun and tanning booths had given him towards the end.

“This…this isn’t happening…” Logan stammers, backing away slowly, stepping around the chair when he bumps into it as he moves to put some distance between himself and this ghost.

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, son. This is happening.” Licking his thumb, Aaron flips a page in the folder. “Funny thing, God didn’t give you a pass on the bum fights either. Beating up a few rapists helped to even out some of your numbers, and joining the Navy certainly helped, but that incident in Budapest where those Russian operatives ended up dead and that woman on the Korean border…just to name a few…”

Holding up a hand in protest, Logan steps towards his accuser. “That woman on the border was trafficking children—it wasn’t my mission, but killing her meant I put a stop to their operations and saved a bunch of kids.”

Closing the file, Aaron shrugs. “Look, I don’t make the call, son. That’s another department. But thanks to your intelligence work, you seem to have gotten yourself back on the naughty list, so to speak.”

Striding to Aaron, Logan puffs up his chest, making himself bigger than his old man. “I slept with a clear conscience about everything I did. Can you say the same thing, asshole? Would you like to see the marks you left on my back when you beat me with those leather belts? Because they’re still there. And Mom and Lilly—what about what you did to them? I hope to God they’re not down here with you.”

Aaron tosses the file in the air and it disappears, causing him to grin at his magic trick. 

“No, son, it’s just you and me, down here for eternity.” Crossing his arms, he chuckles. “This is just the preliminaries—seems that they’ve decided that your worst version of hell is to be trapped with me forever. It’ll be like some wacky sitcom—the son and father who hate each other, trying to survive the torments of hell. Just wait until we do the endless papercuts before jumping into a vat of vinegar challenge together—that’s always a fun day.”

“Over my dead body…” Logan spits, now eye to eye with Aaron.

“You still don’t get it, do you, Logan? That’s what this is. You’re dead!” Aaron steps away, strutting around the room, his arms gesturing at the nothingness. “You got your happy ending for a nano-second, but you didn’t deserve it, so when you got blown up, the one above sent you down here, with me.”

_ Veronica. _

Logan feels his knees start to give out and he steadies himself against the wall at the thought of Veronica. His wife. All this time, all he wanted to do was make some sort of life with her, the love of his life.

“Spanning years…continents…” 

“Epic!” Aaron laughs, his hand flicking in the air. “Well, I mean, you _ were _epic, but now…not so much.”

“There’s got to be a way,” Logan mutters. “I need to get back to her.”

Launching himself across the small room, Logan grabs Aaron by the collar of his black shirt, shaking him violently. “Tell me! Tell me how to get out of here!”

A twisted grin spreads across Aaron’s face as it grows redder and redder. As Logan watches, two hard black horns emerge from his forehead, curling ever so slightly upwards before stopping. When Aaron opens his mouth, the heat of a deep fire singes Logan’s face and he winces.

“Fight me! You want to get back to her, boy? You’ll have to fight me! But you don’t have it in you because underneath all of those muscles is the same scrawny little cry-baby I had to beat into being a man!”

A rage rushes through Logan the likes of which he had never felt before, shaking him to his bones. He was going to get back to Veronica and have the life he had always wanted, even if he had to fight the devil himself to do so.

Grabbing Aaron’s face with his hand, Logan leverages himself forward, pushing him to the hard floor with all his weight behind him and he hears a sickening crack as Aaron’s skull makes contact with the concrete. Staring up at Logan, Aaron’s forked tongue flicks to lick blood from his lips.

“That all you got for me, son?”

Logan hooks his thumb over the edge of his leather belt, the perverse thought of taking it off and beating Aaron to a bloody pulp with it dancing through his head, but he stops himself, fights for some semblance of control in this out-of-control situation. Instead, he drops to his knees, grabbing Aaron by the throat and pinning him to the ground.

“I don’t belong here,” he hisses in Aaron’s face. “I worked my ass off to become a better goddamn human than you, and I’ll be damned if I spend eternity with you. I want to be with Veronica. I deserve to be with Veronica, for fuck’s sake. After all we’ve both been through, is it too much to ask that this mother-fucking universe leave us alone? For once? Just let us both be happy?”

The look on Aaron’s face softens in a way Logan had only seen on screen—the type of performance the critics would insist was “Oscar-worthy.”

“What makes you think you deserve it, Logan? Tell me.”

Releasing Aaron, Logan staggers slightly, dropping to the ground but keeping his eyes locked on his father.

“I love her. I’ve loved her for so long, I can’t even remember a time when I didn’t.” Rubbing his face with his palms, Logan takes in a shaky breath, letting it out slowly. “And I’ve worked damn hard to keep our love strong. We’ve worked at it—I’ve worked at it—in ways I never thought I was capable of just to make myself a better person for myself and for her. Because isn’t that the point of life—to love and be loved? I mean, I may not have been perfect in my work and my life, but Veronica is the one thing I did right in my life, and I’ll be damned if I don’t fight for that.”

Aaron sits up, nodding slowly as he pulls himself to stand. His horns recede and his colour returns to normal and as he straightens, he looks more like himself than Logan remembered from his nightmares.

“You didn’t try and kill me.” Aaron smirks. “I wouldn’t have bet on that.”

“Only maim. Slightly.” Logan holds his thumb and forefinger an inch apart, looking through the gap up at Aaron. “Call it mercy. Call it personal growth, even down in hell. Besides, if we’re both dead, what good would it be to try and kill you?”

“Hmmm…maybe you made the right choice, son.” Raising his hand, Aaron presses his thumb and middle finger together, pausing to speak. “Good-bye, Logan. Give my regards to Veronica, would you?”

_ Snap. _

“Logan!”

His eyes open as he gasps for breath but whatever tube is shoved down his throat stops him and he begins to choke. There’s a flurry of movement around him and he’s disoriented by the bright lights and sounds.

“Oh thank God, thank God, Logan…”

Veronica’s voice. It’s somewhere near but he can’t see her as the people in blue move around him. He can’t move. _ Why can’t I move? _

“Mr. Echolls, you have to calm down. We’re trying to help you,” a masculine voice tells him and he focuses on the tall dark-skinned man standing over him. 

Nodding, Logan scans the room and finds Veronica a few feet away. She’s still in her white dress but it’s covered in brown stains. 

_ Blood? His blood or hers? _

Her hair is stringy and by the look of terror on her face, it seems as though she has been in this room with him for some time. The nurse moves in his sight line and suddenly she’s beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder as they work around him.

“It’s okay, baby.” She crouches down by his face, her voice shaky. “I thought we were going to lose you that time…but you’re back. You’re back.”

His eyes try and communicate to her the questions in his head_ . What happened? What the hell is going on? Why can’t I move? _

Veronica nods, her tired eyes wild now with adrenaline and her shaky hand pushes the hair off her face. “Penn’s bomb went off in the car. There was shrapnel and the nails and….” She pauses to take a breath. “You lost your arm, and your face was burned by the blast, and there were so many holes and parts of you they had to stitch up…but you’re alive. They didn’t think you would make it, but I told them you would. I just knew you wouldn’t leave me.”

Trying to move his shoulder, he realizes as he looks down that his arm is, in fact, gone, and his stomach knots. The medical staff are still hovering around him, talking among themselves, and Logan lets his eyes drift back up towards the heavens.

_ Alive. _

_ Barely. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics at the top of the fic from "Bat Out of Hell" by Meatloaf.


	20. The One Where Keith Saves The Day by Irma66

“Oh hey, wait.”

Keith waved to the departing deputy and when the young man turned back toward him, he leaned into the back of Veronica’s car. “You almost missed his bag,” he said as he pulled a backpack out from behind the driver’s seat. He used the earnest, teaching tone he used to use on his own deputies as he handed it to the Neptune P.D. officer. “Wouldn’t want to lose his stuff. There might be evidence in here.”

The officer took the bag carefully, a look of awe on his face. "You think?".

“Carlson! What are you doing?” Chief Langdon shouted across the parking lot. “Get back over here."

Officer Carlson looked over at his boss, nervous, then back at Keith, apologetic. “Thanks for making sure we got this. It would be bad if we missed some of his stuff.” He took a step away, then turned back to Keith. “And thanks for what you did today. You probably saved a lot of lives.”

“Carlson!”

“Oh! I gotta go, thanks again.” Carlson hustled away, moving between Veronica's car and the cruiser where Penn was confined toward another squad car. Keith noticed that Veronica stood beside Penn's window, seemingly deep in a conversation with Penn that he seemed to find amusing. She only looked irritated. Keith followed after the deputy, but heading for Veronica. They'd given this cuss-hole enough attention; he just wanted to get Veronica away from the maniac who’d been terrorizing the city. 

“Yeah, we’ll see, _Hero_,” Penn said to Veronica, just as Keith walked up. He put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder and tugged gently.

“Honey, come on.”

Veronica flinched at his touch, but then stepped back. “Yeah, I’m wasting my time with this idiot.”

Penn’s eyes narrowed and Keith could almost feel the hatred coming off the man, but then, unexpectedly, he smiled and Keith felt cold dread creep down his spine.

“You don’t want to waste any of that. Time, I mean,” Penn said in a taunting voice. "Never know when it's gonna run out."

Veronica pivoted away, but Keith studied the man for a moment. He turned away also, as if to follow, then he glanced back over his shoulder.

“I gave your backpack to the cops, Mr. Epner. I’m sure they’ll have it to you in a couple of hours.”

Penn’s face lost its cruel sneer, and he paled. _Bingo._

Keith turned away, going straight for the other squad car. Officer Carlson had opened his trunk and was placing the backpack inside. Keith stopped a few feet away. 

“Officer,” Keith said and when the young man looked over at him, Keith motioned him closer as discreetly as he could. _No need to alert Marcia. She’d probably rather blow the place up than take my advice._

“Yes, Mr. Mars?”

Keith spoke in a low voice. “I don’t know for sure, but I would recommend you check that bag of Epner’s sooner rather than later. I mentioned him getting it back in a couple of hours—“

“He’s not getting anything back,” Carlson interrupted and Keith struggled not to roll his eyes at the rookie.

“I know that, and you know that, but he doesn’t. And the idea of that backpack coming back to him made him look a little queasy. I don’t want to make this a big deal unnecessarily, but if you take a quick look and there is something...interesting...in there, you will have solidly represented the Neptune P.D. today.” He gave the officer a meaningful look, hoping that he was making his point.

The officer mainly looked wary. “What if it blows up when I open the bag?”

_Reasonable concern._ “The other devices have been on timers, I believe. And Epner hadn’t been nervous hanging around until I said he’d get the bag back in a while. I think you’re good, but I wouldn’t wait long.”

Carlson nodded, although he still looked uneasy. “All right then.” He walked back to the trunk, and carefully unzipped the main part of the bag. He peered in, then cautiously reached inside and pulled out what appeared to be a sweater, but it was only partially out when his mouth fell open and he dropped the clothing, backing rapidly away. Keith did the same, moving to where he could see Epner again. 

“Chief!”

Keith smiled, then glanced over at Epner who was leaning forward, watching the scene, shaking his head with a look of disgust on his face. As the mens’ eyes met, Keith raised his hand and snapped his fingers in an exaggerated ‘aw shucks’ movement. Penn sighed and shrugged, then slumped back against the car seat. Keith fought the grin that wanted to break out over his face, then moved away from the backpack over to where Veronica stood by her car. 

"What just happened?" she asked. There was now a flurry of action happening at the open trunk of the squad car.

"Well, Mr. Epner tried to leave a bomb in your car. A little parting gift for you, I believe. But your dear old Dad saved your bacon."

Her mouth fell open, much like the young officer's had a few moments earlier. "There was a bomb in my car?" She threw her door open and started peering under the seats, then dropped to the ground to look in the wheel wells. 

"I don't think he had any chance to plant something like that, Veronica. If there was nothing else where he was sitting, I think you're good."

Even as he spoke, she continued to move around the car, looking under it from all angles, then popping the trunk to look inside.

"You never opened your trunk while he was with us, honey."

"Just checking."

She finally closed the trunk and came to stand beside him. "I can't believe that little cuss was trying to kill me."

"Really?"

She glared at him. "Thanks, Dad."

"Just saying."

"So, how did you know? What made you look?"

"Age and experience," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. "But come on, Veronica, even a youngster like yourself should know to always check your back seat. You never know what, or who’s, gonna be back there." At her sharp intake of breath, he quirked an eyebrow at her. "I mean, didn't you learn that lesson the hard way like, fifteen years ago?"


	21. The One Where Pony Wants Out by MrsKissyT

Bending down behind Veronica and scooping her up into his arms _ should _ have been romantic, had Logan not lost hearing in his ear from the shriek she let out as her feet left the ground.

“Lo—what are you _ do_ing?” she squealed as he hoisted her up in the air. 

“Carrying my bride across the threshold of our humble abode, Mrs Echolls.” He laughed as she continued to squirm. “As one does.” 

“Well, _ this _ bride would prefer to walk,” she huffed, stopping her wiggling when Logan began to fumble with the keys. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes when she snatched them out of his hand and quickly unlocked the door. “And it’s Echolls-_Mars_.” 

Stepping through the doorway, he gently placed her on the ground, taking her hand and twirling her around twice before pulling her into a deep, tender kiss. Their lips parting, Logan ran the back of his hand down the side of her face, before pressing their foreheads together until they were nose to nose. 

“For the rest of your life...wifey,” he said with a smirk. 

“Aaargh, I _ can’t _ believe you just said that,” Veronica groaned, pushing herself out of his embrace and heading into their bedroom. 

Logan laughed as he followed, watching her continue to shake her head. “Is this what I’ve signed up for now, for the rest of my life?” she asked. “Bad puns and nicknames?” 

“Yep,” he said, popping the “p” loudly. “Sorry, no take backs. You signed on that dotted line, and now you’re forever mine, darlin’.”

“Oh, God. _ Please _ stop.” Face in her hands, she fell back on top of the bed, Logan crossing the room to sit next to her. 

“That’s not what you said this morning. Or last night. _ Or _ what you’ll be moaning loudly in a second.” 

Shifting to hover his body over hers, he moved his mouth to Veronica’s neck, only to be thwarted by 90 pounds of mutt ramming into his side, causing him to lose his balance and topple down next to her. Leaning up on his elbow, he sighed as Veronica began cooing at Pony, sparing not so much as a glance his way.

“Cockblocked by the dog. Is this something I get to look forward to for the rest of our lives?” he mumbled, not really that bothered knowing they were about to take off sans pup for two weeks. 

“We’ve been living here together for five years. What do _ you _ think?” 

Chuckling when Pony switched focus from Veronica to himself, Logan wrapped his arms around the dog and pulled her with him as he scooted towards the edge of the bed. “I’m thinking....season tickets to the Padres for your Dad, in exchange for weekly doggy sleepovers.

Satisfied by her look of approval, he gave Pony one more solid pat before pushing up off the bed, his loyal companion in tow. “Come on, Pony’s startin to get antsy. We should take her out before we go. Wallace said he’d be over later with Shae and Noah to let her run around, but that’s not for a few hours.”

Veronica stood, glancing at the bathroom quickly before stepping towards him, taking Logan’s hand in her own. “Yeah, good idea. Why don’t you take her out while I take a shower? I haven’t had a chance to since—”

“Since before the bomb scare at the school?” he cut in, earning himself a classic shocked!Veronica look. “Yeah, Wallace told me what happened. Sure am glad we’ve started our marriage off with half truths,” he teased. “Is this what’s gonna happen for the rest of—ow, hey!” He flinched when she moved her hand up and pinched his arm. 

“Don’t do that. I would’ve told you.” He looked at her skeptically and she huffed. “What? I would have!” She shrugged and gave him a rueful grin. “Eventually.”

“There it is.” He nodded, grabbing her hand and pulling her with him out of the bedroom. “Come on. No shower for you. We’re taking our dog out before we leave her to have copious amounts of sex in the desert.”

Veronica snorted as she grabbed Pony’s leash on the way out of the room. “Can’t argue with that.”

Flipping off her shoes and switching to her Chucks, she bent down to latch Pony to her leash, giving Logan a chance to step out of his own dress shoes and into the sneakers he kept by the front door. Feeling the buzz from the phone in his pocket, he pulled out his phone while Veronica locked the door. 

“Don’t let me forget to move the car when we come back. Last thing we need is for it to get towed while we’re gone,” he said as they headed down the stairs. “The city of Neptune offers its congrats on your nuptials. Your car’s been impounded on us. Here’s the claim ticket.” He took the leash from Veronica and she grabbed his free hand as they stepped onto the walkway along the sand. 

“Sounds about right,” Veronica agreed, squeezing his hand as she looked up at him, meeting his eyes with a smile. “I’m glad we’re getting out of here for a little while. I think we could both use a break.”

“A sex-cation?” he quipped.

“Sure,” she laughed. “Why the hell not? After spending so much time trying to solve Penn’s stupid limericks, I could use a little brain melting fun.” 

They waited in comfortable silence while Pony took care of her business, before heading to a nearby bench and sitting. Logan felt content, there on the strand looking out over the beach, his wife and dog next to him. Didn’t get much better than that. 

When he realized Veronica had been silent for a while, he looked over at her, noticing she appeared deep in thought. 

“You may end up melting your own brain before I get a chance to, thinking that hard.” She guffawed and elbowed him. He laughed.

“No one can turn me to mush like you do, _ hubby_,” she leered, before rolling her eyes and letting out a sigh. “I keep thinking about the last limerick. I keep feeling like I missed something.”

Before he could speak, a loud explosion caught them both off guard—Logan diving to cover Veronica immediately, pulling them both down to the ground in front of the bench, a death grip on Pony’s leash. Waiting until he was confident they were safe, he helped Veronica up off the ground, bringing Pony close to his legs once he’d stood. 

Smoke was pouring down the narrow walkway between their condo and the building next door, making it clear that the explosion had come from behind their building. The neighbors were beginning to emerge from their homes; Logan could already hear sirens in the distance. Veronica looked like she was in complete shock, both hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. For a moment, he thought she looked a little guilty.

Their eyes meet briefly, silently agreeing to check out what had just happened. The fire engines were just coming down the street when the trio approached the alleyway. 

The black smoke was rising, flames still raging, but it was obvious to Logan that they were looking at what was left of Veronica’s vehicle. 

“Well, I guess Neptune came through after all,” he sighed, wishing now, more than ever, that they’d just eloped.

At least he’d waited to move the damn car.


	22. The One With Mars Behind Bars by KMD0107

Veronica stomped across the tiny cell. “This is bullshit!” She was in the same cell as when she was arrested back during her freshman year of college, except back then, she still possessed an ability to fake being chill. A skill she discovered she had most decidedly lost the moment cuffs were slapped on her wrists in the parking lot of Kane High.

“Now, honey, Cliff will get this all cleared up—”

“How? He’s Penn’s attorney.”

“Now, now, Veronica, would I do you dirty like that?” The dulcet tones of one Cliff McCormick drifted down the hall. Moments later, he came into view dressed in an, only slightly, wrinkled shiny grey summer suit. “You know this feels eerily familiar.”

Hunched over on the lower bunk, Keith sighed and said, “Cliff, it’s good to see you.”

“You too, Keith, though I prefer for you both to be on the other side of those bars. So, what do you want first, the good news or the bad news?”

“Always the good news,” Keith said.

“I’ve declined to continue on as Mr. Epner’s counsel.” Cliff leaned toward the bars, hand angled against his cheek, faux blocking his voice from carrying down the hall. “Conflict of interest.”

“We didn’t kidnap him—”

"Uh-uh, you have the right to remain silent, and I'll be advising you to do just that. We will, of course, argue for bail, and then we can discuss whatever needs discussing."

Veronica felt the heat rising from her center, anger. She was so angry. Angry at Marcia Langdon, angry at Leo, angry at Big Dick, but especially angry at Penn Epner. She’d ignored her instinct about Penn to pursue a payday, a choice she’d be regretting for years to come. _You'd think after years of being taken by surprise, I'd have grown some sense_. 

“You said there was bad news,” Keith said, pulling Veronica’s attention back to the present.

“Aw yes, the bad news. Big Dick Casablancas is dead.”

“We’re aware of that.”

"Yes, but what you aren't aware of is that Penn is already squawking loudly about being a scapegoat and that there's proof it was Big D all along."

Veronica buried her face in one of the scratchy pillows and screamed.

If this charge stuck, she would never be able to practice law. Not that she was jumping at the chance right this moment but plans to sit for the Bar were still a thing that she tossed around in her mind on late nights when Logan was half a world away.

Veronica tossed the pillow aside and asked, “Do you think Marcia’s buying it?”

“What’s this, you want to know what I think? That sense of _déjà vu_ just went—” Cliff made a popping gesture with his hand.

“Enough, what’s your sense of the situation?” Keith asked, getting up from the bunk and approaching the bars.

Cliff nodded and turned away from Veronica, which was just as well, she was so far down a hole of horrible that this just felt like icing on the cake. Her wedding cake, to be exact. _Guess our impromptu wedding is off…_

“I don’t think Marcia’s buying it, but there’s that whole compelling alternate theory business.” Cliff shrugged. “For our purposes, I don’t think it matters. You had reasonable suspicion to detain him and an urgent set of circumstances. I don't think it will make, and I think I'll have you both out on bail as soon as I can get a hearing."

"Thanks, Cliff, but I’m not sure how much we’d be able to pay, bail wise.”

“Already handled.”

Veronica jumped off the top bunk and approached the bars. “What do you mean?”

“A certain Logan Echolls, soon to be Mars, according to that quippy little line he gave me, has already secured the funds.”

* * *

Logan paced across the reception room’s cheap linoleum floor. The same floor where he’d paced waiting for Dick to pick him up after he’d made bail for Carrie’s murder. It looked the same as it had back when Logan was still a kid making dumb mistakes even though it likely had been replaced in the intervening years. Being in Neptune PD, formerly the Balboa Sheriff’s Department, felt a bit like he was trapped in M.C. Escher’s _Relativity_, to end up in the same place. This thing with the pizza bomber was just one more threat to his and Veronica's life, and the peace Logan felt like he was just starting to find. But he was a man ready to start the rest of his life with the woman that he loved, and no way was he going to allow a little thing like a kidnapping charge to interfere.

He laughed to himself. _Kidnapping a ‘probably bad’ guy is small potatoes compared to our usual around here_

Cliff emerged from the hall that led down to the cells. There was a smile on his face, despite his shaking head, as he came to stand beside Logan.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em," he said and patted Logan's shoulder. "You can go back and see them while I see if we can’t get snag a judge before they all leave for the day. Maybe Judge Cramer is around, he has a bit of a romantic streak. He might even be willing to officiate after we spring the bride."

“I appreciate it. Can’t let a little bail hearing keep me from getting hitched. Veronica promised to make an honest man of me.” Logan took Cliff’s hand and shook it firmly. “You might want to avoid Cramer, though; Veronica might have tried to blackmail him back in her Hearst days.”

“Oh, you kids. But really, Logan, I’m happy for you both. We’ll get this all cleared up, I promise.”

"I have the utmost confidence. Besides, you got me out of worse charges," Logan said, forcing a smile.

Logan took in the sad downturn of Cliff's mouth and the light shining in his eyes. “Yes, but not before a lot of damage to you both. You deserve happiness in your lives.” Cliff shook his shoulders and seemed to regain his composure. “I’m off, call me if Marcia gets cuff happy on you as well.”

“Thank you, that means a lot. You’re coming to Keith’s later to celebrate with us, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Cliff said, patting Logan on the back once more, then heading out of the reception area.

Logan made eye contact with the officer who was waiting at the entrance to the hall Cliff had come from. “Logan Echolls,” Logan said, introducing himself.

“I know who you are, we went to high school together.”

"Oh, sorry," Logan said, glancing at the officer’s badge, “Officer Clayton.” Logan let the name settle in his mind and came up with a memory. “Oh, Norris Clayton! Veronica cleared you of planning a school bombing. Huh, you know, when we don’t remember our past mistakes, we’re doomed to repeat them in the future.”

Clayton smiled at Logan and indicated he should follow him down the hall. "She did. I think, maybe, Kane did learn.” Clayton lowered his voice and said, “That school is covered with incredibly well-hidden cameras.”

“That is some useful information. Thanks, man.”

“Eh, I still owe her one,” he said as they reached the end of the hall and the cells. “Marses, you have another visitor. I’ll leave you all to it.”

Logan stepped up to the wall of bars that separated the cell from the larger room. “You know, Veronica, this was not quite the way I planned to meet you at the courthouse.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I feel like we couldn’t have planned this better. The judge can sign my bail and then officiate. If anything, I’m nailing my multitasking,” she said, reaching her hand through the bars to take his. “I’m so sorry about this.”

“Don’t even think about it, you were saving the day like only Veronica Logan can.”

"Veronica Logan?" Keith asked, getting up to join them.

“Yeah, Dad, it’s all the rage with us Millennials. Though I’m still partial to a completely new name; what about Kensington?”

“Like from Austin Powers? Can we change my middle name to Danger?” Logan asked, teasing.

“Seems appropriate, with all the acrobatic motorcycle chase scene action you see.” Veronica laughed and leaned further into the bars, increasing the contact she made with Logan.

“Excuse me, what are you going on about? You kids and your new-fangled ideas,” Keith groused, as he leaned against the bars next to Veronica.

Logan laughed off his stress for a moment, just enjoying a few moments with his family when he remembered Officer Clayton’s comment. “Hey, an officer on the ‘friends and family plan’ mentioned something about the high school.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” she asked.

“Don’t you mean who?”

“Oh, I know who. Tall, dark, and armed—” Veronica winked at him “—Yes, I know that Norris Clayton is on the force _and_ that he's a fan. I did save him from being framed for an attack on Neptune High," she said, preening. "What did he say?"

“That Kane High is covered in cameras, the well-hidden kind.”

Veronica turned to Keith. “You think Marcia will pull footage?”

Keith shrugged. “It’s what I would do, what she should do…I think she wants Penn for this as much as we do, so yeah. And if she doesn’t, we can pull some strings and get it to help with our argument of citizen’s arrest.”

Logan took a small step back and watched Keith and Veronica debate strategy. He reached into his pocket and unlocked his phone. "Is there a Dr. Seuss for this, the two little Marses were trapped behind barses, for locking a bad guy in their —”

“Please stop, I have had more than enough of poor rhyming skills for a lifetime,” Veronica whined, shaking the bars.

“If you say so, and also, say cheese." Logan pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly snapped a series of photos.

“You didn’t!”

"I did. Hold on, one more!" He turned around while swapping to the front-facing camera, and took a shot with all three of them in view. He tapped album view and smiled at Keith's grimace, Veronica's scowl, and his smile. He turned it to Veronica. "We could use this as our wedding announcement photo.”

“Buddy, you keep talking about photos, and there won't be anything to announce," Veronica said, trying to look stern. But Logan could see that twinkle in her eye that meant she was amused.

“Well, in that case, I guess I could keep it for my special collection.”

Keith groaned and moved back to the bunk, resuming his slump from earlier.

“One time I get arrested—”

Keith shook his head. “Actually, honey, it’s more like three, no, make that four times.”

“What about Logan? He’s been arrested way more times than I have.”

“You get accused of murder one time—”

“Veronica, no what about-isms, and it was three times, Logan. What did I do in a previous life to end up with such civically challenged children?”

“You know, actually, it’s four, you missed one…the first one, and if I remember correctly, I have the two of you to thank for that.” Logan smirked at Veronica’s embarrassed look, then put away his phone, letting himself enjoy the moment. They really were all about to become family. A firm hand on his shoulder started him out of his happy moment.

"Not sure, Keith, but I know I'm looking forward to my next four-handed massage," Cliff said, giving Logan a wink and a nod.

“When did you get back?” Logan asked, surprised to see Cliff again so soon.

"Never left. Turns out, I have more bad…um…well, sort of good news.”

“Well? Spill it,” Veronica said, her impatience with the situation clearly taking a toll.

“We won’t have to worry about bail,” Cliff said, getting right to the point, much to Logan’s relief.

“How is that bad news?” Keith asked.

“Because the charges were dropped due to another bomb going off. The bomb was in your car, V.”

Logan felt his jaw go slack. A bomb went off in Veronica’s car. He looked down at his wrist, 5:12 PM. Their original appointment with the judge had been for 4:00 PM.

“God, Logan, we might have been in the car,” Veronica said, a catch in her words. Logan slid his hand through the bars and gripped Veronica's hand tightly. _We’re okay, we’re safe. _

"See, I told you it was good news. Charges dropped, and you weren't in the car when it was blown to smithereens, win-win.”

Office Clayton chose that moment to rejoin them, and it wasn't a moment too soon for Logan. The cell door had barely slid open, and he had Veronica in his arms. He lowered his mouth to her ear, inhaling her scent. "We can reschedule our appointment for tomorrow.”

"I don't want to wait," she whispered back. "I feel like my life has been on hold, and I don't want it to be anymore."

“There’s always Vegas. An Elvis impersonator, all you can eat steak buffet, and a honeymoon suite?”

“Sounds perfect, but I don’t have a Groupon for that.”

"If I was willing to break the plan not to use my trust fund for your bail, I'm pretty sure I'd be willing to for our wedding."

“In that case, _Viva Las Vegas!_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Irma for betaing this sooooo many times so we could get it right. We have her to thank for Logan’s completed rhyme :) and for finding this line in MKAT: “I was a bard,” he told Veronica, smirking a little. “I spent the whole time writing limericks about the other characters.” To prove it was in character!


	23. The One With The Gift Card by MarshmallowBobcat

Logan reads his orders and the word “Istanbul” immediately conjures up images of brilliant textiles littering Aladdin-esque rug markets—complete with smarmy merchants and magical lamps hidden among dusty antiques. 

Instead, when he arrives he finds a bustling business industry that’s as sleek and modern as anything in New York City. 

Now, he stands in front of a glass and steel building and takes a deep breath. The new and trendy may be taking over, but the Old World charm is still there and he’s hoping he can eke out a bit of magic from the City of Dreams. He could use three wishes right about now. 

He flashes his credentials at a disinterested guard and takes the elevator up. 

One brief skirmish with the overly disciplined receptionist and then he’s rounding the perimeter of the sixth floor, peering through the glass of every executive office he sees. 

He purposefully ignores the willowy receptionist scurrying behind him. Her time would probably be better spent making those appointments she seems to require so desperately, but it’s none of his business if she wants to go for a jog in her pencil-thin red heels. 

On his second lap, he finally spots blue-streaked hair behind a computer. _ There she is. His very own Genie of the Lamp. _

His shoulders loosen a fraction, and he slows his steps. The out-of-breath receptionist takes advantage, leaping in front of him before he can slide open the office door. 

“Wait here while I announce you,” she manages in a lofty voice as she sails through the door ahead of him. “Miss Mackenzie, you have a visitor.” 

Logan rolls his eyes and follows. _ Completely unnecessary since the door is see through, but whatever helps her sleep at night. _

“Emine,” Miss Mackenzie murmurs, looking up from her computer, and Logan notes the flare of heat before Mac’s eyes move to his and her eyebrows lift. “Logan.”

Logan tilts his chin in acknowledgment. 

“Thanks, Emine.” Mac stands up to move around the desk. “I got this”

Emine looks between them, uncertain, and Mac squeezes her arm in reassurance as she approaches. Emine gives a reluctant nod, quietly exiting. She’s as skinny as her heels and six inches shorter than him but, to Logan’s amusement, she shoots him one last warning look on her way out. 

_ Guess now he knows what actually helps Emine sleep at night. _

“Don’t mind her, she’s protective.” Mac envelops him in a hug that exudes warmth and suspicion, and it makes him ache for Veronica. He returns it, trying to keep the desperation out of his muscles. 

He’s praying that his own version of rubbing the lamp, calling up the genie, will pan out. Since the Navy is about to turn him into a ghost, it doesn’t seem that far fetched. 

Mac clasps his hands, tugging him to the black leather couch and coffee table in the corner of her office, and he forces himself to relax. 

“So....this is a surprise.” She settles onto the cushions, crossing her legs at the knee. “What’s the United States Navy doing in Turkey?” 

There’s a hair too much intensity in her gaze for the question to be casual, but over the years he and Mac have become very skilled in the art of non-conversation. 

He smirks at her. “The United States Navy isn’t in Turkey.” 

“You’re on leave and you’re spending it with me?” Her palm touches her heart dramatically. “I’m touched.”

“No, I’m not on leave.” He leans back in his seat, taking comfort in the snark. “Tell me, what’s the head of Research and Development for Kane Software doing in Istanbul?” _ In a nondescript building, on an unmarked floor. _

She pats his knee. “Don’t worry, she’s not.” 

They share a measured look, and Mac smiles, calling an unspoken truce. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” 

_ Here it goes. Wish number one. _

_ “ _I need your help, Mac.” 

* * *

Ensign Kevin Ricks can’t seem to make himself leave Neptune. It’s been two days since the funeral of Lieutenant Logan “Mouth” Echolls and Ricks cannot will his body to pack up, check out, go home. 

Not that there’s anything for him to do in Neptune. Ricks just wanders the town, half-hoping to run into someone, anyone, from Mouth’s life. 

For someone to question his presence. To ask _ why _ he’s still here. But nobody seems to notice. Or if they do, they don’t bother to ask. So why bother to tell?

Besides, what would he say? _ Sorry for your loss? I miss him, too? I’ve been a little in love with him since he saved my life in Mukalla and I’m sad, too? _

Nothing seems right. 

Today, he walks aimlessly along the beach, his easy gait belying an internal discomfort. Among the drunk and disorderly he feels wrong. Too clean, too somber, too far removed from the carefree revelry of spring break. 

He wishes he could have fun, join in. The last time they saw each other, Mouth advised him to “enjoy being alive.” He hasn’t done much of that lately—or ever really. It’s not his natural state and he isn’t even sure where to start. 

_ What do the living do on the beach when they’re not half-naked, drinking, or dancing? _

He scans his surroundings and just ahead the answer seems to manifest: a harbinger of hope, a symbol of life. “Amy’s.” 

His hand lightly touches the pocket where he keeps his wallet. Maybe he’ll start with a milkshake. 

Half an hour later, he decides enjoying life is overrated. What’s there to enjoy about queuing thirty minutes for what is sure to be a mediocre milkshake? 

To be fair, it probably would have gone faster if the scrawny blonde behind the counter had stopped crying long enough to move with any semblance of efficiency. 

She scoops and sobs. Blends and bawls. It’s fascinating, and a little terrifying. 

By the time Ricks makes it to the front of the line, her face is red and puffy and one blue contact is slightly askew from all the eye rubbing. But at least she’s not wailing. He’d like to keep it that way. 

He reads her name tag, dials up the charm, and smiles. “Ruby, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. I’ll have—“_ Shit. _

_ He had thirty minutes to think, and he forgot to figure his order? Enjoying life. Definitely overrated. _

Clearly giving Ruby even two _ seconds _ to think is a mistake, because tears begin to well. Before they can spill, he blurts, “I’ll have a chocolate and peanut butter milkshake. Large.”

She blinks rapidly and dabs her eyes with the sleeve of her black and white striped shirt as she turns toward the blender.

Relieved, Ricks pulls out his wallet, and removes a gift card. _ The _ gift card. 

_One_ _life-affirming milkshake, courtesy of Mouth, coming up. _

Ruby returns, plunking down his shake with a watery smile. “That’ll be $7.23.” Her voice waivers and Ricks sends her a bolstering wink to cover his grimace. 

He slides the card in the reader and… nothing happens. He frowns and tries again. Nothing. _ Huh _. 

He assumed Mouth paid him with a regifted card to keep the transaction untraceable. He also assumed there was actually money on it. 

He glances up to find Ruby staring at him, her eyes swimming. _ Oh no. _Digging out a ten dollar bill, he throws it on the counter, shouting, “Keep the change,” over his shoulder as he hustles out of the ice cream parlor. 

Taking up residence on the nearest bench he examines the card. It looks normal. But no way Lieutenant Money Bags shorts him. 

Flipping it, Ricks squints at the back of the card. 

_ Well, I’ll be damned. _

He pulls his cell phone from his pocket and Googles the address for Mars Investigations. 

* * *

“Miz Mars?”

Veronica stiffens and swings the receptionist’s chair away from the filing cabinet. 

She takes in the man’s close-cut hairstyle, the rigid set to his shoulders, and narrows in on his face. One of Logan’s Navy buddies. She remembers him from the funeral. 

“Mrs. Echolls-Mars,” she corrects sharply. 

Veronica has spent the last week in uncertainty. She’s not sure if she can ever return to the apartment she shared with Logan. She’s not sure if she will ever do more at MI than file paperwork. She’s not sure if she’ll ever feel anything more than empty. 

But she’s damned sure she married Lieutenant Logan Echolls last week. 

Her guest stands straighter, but his face softens. “Yes, Mrs. Echolls, ma’am.”

She magnanimously ignores the “ma’am.”

“Ensign Ricks. What are you still doing in town?” 

A startled expression crosses his face, and he takes an oddly eager breath. Then he seems to think better of it, pressing his lips together and giving a small shake of his head. 

“Mouth, ah, Logan... I helped him out with the Maloof blackmailer.” 

She tries to summon an inkling of curiosity for his hesitation, but it won’t come. Old Veronica would have pressed. _ What were you going to say? You can tell me. _New Veronica just doesn’t care. 

“Okay.” Veronica nods. 

“Well, he paid me with an invalid gift card.” 

The crassness of the request should probably shock her. Maybe the wizard has a cure for jaded. She moves briskly, pushing out of the chair, standing to reach for her purse at the far edge of the desk. 

“How much do we owe you?” she asks as her fingers close around her checkbook. 

Ensign Ricks stops her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. Before she can tase or shoot him, he replies, “No. That’s not why I’m here.” 

He drops his hand and searches his pocket, emerging with a, presumably void, gift card. 

Taking it from him, she inspects it. Nothing out of the ordinary. She looks up at him, and he’s staring back at her intently. 

“Read the back,” he instructs. 

She’s at the edge of her patience, but decides to humor him. Why not? It’s not like she has anything better to do. And this is the first time in two days she hasn’t contemplated putting her head in the oven.

She reads the standard legal language. 

_ Protect this gift card and treat it as you would cash… not valid until activated...lost or stolen cards cannot be replaced…for gift card balance, information or— _

Veronica inhales sharply, her hand begins to shake. She looks up at Ricks again and he’s still watching her carefully. She reads it a second time. 

_ For gift card balance, information or in case of my death, please give to Veronica Mars. _

The rest goes on as normal: _C_ _ ard cannot be used to make pre-authorized or recurring bill payments... _blah blah blah. 

She can’t tear her eyes away. She has to read it two more times before she lets herself hope, four more before she lets herself believe. 

With a heavy thud, she drops blindly back into her chair.

“Mrs. Echolls? Veronica?” Ricks’ voice reaches her through the fog. “What does it mean?”

She shakes off the daze, still staring down at the card, turning it in her hands, squinting at every inch. “I’m not sur—.” 

She stops abruptly. _ The account number. _It’s a digit short. It should be sixteen numbers, but it’s only fifteen. 

“It’s a phone number,” she mutters. An international phone number. 

Ricks places his cell phone in front of her. “Use mine, it’s secure. It’s a burner, not Navy issued.” 

A spark of curiosity ignites and she’s so shocked she fumbles the phone. Shaking it off, she shoots Ricks a grateful glance, types the number in with forceful precision, and holds her breath. 

An automated recording picks up. “Please enter your PIN number followed by the pound sign.”

_ PIN number. _ She glares at the card, but it reveals no clues. Frustrated, she hangs up and rubs at her temples, forces herself to _ think. _

“What happened?” Ricks demands. 

_ Pin...pin… pin… _

“Veronica?” 

_ Pin...pin… pin… _

She snaps straight in her seat. “Get me a loaf of bread from the kitchenette.” 

To his credit, he doesn’t blink, just spins in a graceful move that would make Logan proud and rushes to the pantry.

While he does that, she rummages through the desk for an X-Acto knife and the Square credit card reader Mac _ insisted _ any respectable small business should own. 

Veronica hooks the reader up to Rick’s phone, surprised she doesn’t have to download the app onto it. 

“Where’d you get this phone?” she demands when Ricks returns. She swipes the card and gets an error message. Someone erased the card information.

“Mouth.” He hands her the Wonder Bread. 

_ Of course. _

Out of sheer nervousness, she talks as she works. “A while back we had a credit card fraud case. Turns out a card’s magnetic stripe contains three tracks of data.” 

She removes the twist tie from the bread and smooths it flat, laying it over the very bottom of the shiny black strip on the gift card. She makes a notch at the top of the tie with her knife. 

“Each track is about one-tenth of an inch wide.” 

“About the size of a twist tie?” Ricks guesses without inflection as she moves the tie up the magnetic strip and makes another notch.

“Got it in one.” She grins and, God, does it feel good. _ Doing something _ feels good. 

“The first two tracks,” She continues her explanation as she uses a ruler to guide her knife, cutting away the first row of black, “are the only ones a card reader registers. They have your account info, name, address.”

She swipes the second track through the reader. The Square should have read it before, but she has to be sure. 

_ Error _

Picking up her tools, she resumes her ‘plastic’ surgery. 

“The third track is usually blank, but you can program additional data on it.” _ Last chance. _She runs what’s left of the card through the reader. 

_ 020505 _

Veronica lets out a strangled laughing sob. 

She waves Ricks off as he moves towards her. 

2/5/2005. It’s the date of their first kiss. He’s alive. She knows he is. 

She’s going to find him. Then she’s going to kill him. 

And then she’s going to cuss his brains out. 

She dials the fifteen digit number again, and punches in the pin before the automation can finish saying “please.” 

Every muscle in her body is taut; every synapse in her brain is firing on overdrive. 

The line rings. Connects. 

“I see Ricks finally got that milkshake.” 

“Lo—Logan?” 

“Hey, Bobcat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the gift card made absolutely no sense, so obviously it was a clue. 
> 
> This is my last fic for the Logan Lives series. Thanks for reading, friends. All your kind words mean so much! I’ve decided to continue with “The One Where Logan Does Not Propose” and possibly this one, so subscribe to MarshmellowBobcat for updates on those! 
> 
> Thank you so much to my fellow Necromancers (LOGAN LIVES!) for including me in this series! Special shout out to Ellie, Irma, and JMazzy for their serious marketing, organization, and artistic skills.


	24. The One Where Veronica Finds The Bomb by EllieBear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it didn't have to be complicated...

Veronica pulled into the back lane and parked the car just across from her apartment. Taking the keys out of the ignition, she sighed, glancing in the rearview mirror but seeing nothing. Just a short while ago, there was a murderer back there—Penn the pizza man. Smirking at her reflection, she kind of hoped the mediocre moniker stuck with Penn when he went to prison. In a world of Benny the Butcher and Vic the Viper, Penn the Pizza Man didn’t seem like the kind of killer that would make the other inmates shake with fear.

Reaching towards the passenger seat, she frowned, realizing her purse wasn’t where she normally tossed it. She taken her father home after the police were finished getting their statements at the school and he’d probably moved it out of his way when he’d climbed in. 

“What’d you do with my purse, Dad?” she muttered craning her neck to look for it on the dark ground below the seat but coming up empty.

Turning awkwardly to check the back, she was relieved to find it splayed across the blue vinyl, her hairbrush, some papers, and her camera cascading out. With a heavy sigh, she leveraged herself out of the passenger seat and opened the back door, ducking her head to crawl along the back seat to retrieve her belongings. Opening the purse, she began stuffing her things back inside, glancing around to see if anything else spilled out when her dad tossed it. Something caught her eye on the ground and she paused, her heart stopping for a second as her brain caught up with what she was seeing.

A backpack. A blue backpack shoved under the driver’s seat of the car. Not Logan’s backpack. Not hers. That meant it must be...

“Mother fucker.”

Launching herself back out of the car, Veronica fell to the ground, scrambling back in an accelerated crab-crawl away from the vehicle, her eyes wide as her heart kicked back into high gear. Scurrying behind the dumpster, Veronica pulled her phone from her pocket, her hand shaking as she punched in her password and found the number she needed. Lifting the phone to her head, she took a deep, shaky breath as the call connected.

“Leo…I found the other bomb….”


	25. The One Where Wallace Saves the Day by KMD0107

Wallace squints out at the scene before him and shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “So, let me get this straight, you spent the day in the car with a madman, and Neptune PD is just letting you drive away?”

“I guess,” Veronica says with a shrug. “You know how it is, no rules govern me.”

“If you say so. Look, my car is still in the roped-off area, can a brotha get a ride?” he asks, reaching out and squeezing Veronica’s shoulder. She’s stiff and unyielding under what should be a familiar touch. Wallace has been worried about her for months, maybe years at this point, but she doesn’t confide in him, or anyone else as far as he can tell.

“We’d be glad to help you out, Wallace. And besides, Veronica has some news to share,” Keith says as he approaches them from behind. Beside him, Veronica flinches and then smooths a relaxed look across her face. _Unfazed Veronica Mars_.

Veronica rubs her hands together. “Oh, do I ever.”

Wallace lets out a sigh; of late, any news she has to share has not been of the variety that he appreciates. “Okay, Supafly, but it had better be good news. After the day I’ve had, I don’t think I can handle any more bad news.”

“The day you’ve had—” Wallace covers Veronica’s mouth before she can ruin some perfectly good banter.

“Just remember I didn’t give you any grief about vaping in our guest bath.”

“You wha—”

“Ix-nay on the aping-vay,” she says, rapidly slashing her hand across her throat, and for the first time in he doesn't know how long, she resembles the woman who's been his best friend for more than a decade.

“Now, you’re a grown woman, Veronica, I would never presume to judge your habits," Keith says. He looks tired, worn out. Wallace had given up pushing Keith about his health during pizza and basketball nights, because the last time he brought it up, Keith hadn't invited him back for a month. Avoidance, apparently, was genetic.

Wallace gave Veronica his best _Coach Fennel _face and turned back to Keith. “I dunno, Keith, I think a little judging might be deserved.”

“Hey, now, remember who’s giving you a ride,” Veronica said, nudging Wallace in the ribs and then leaning over to open the car door. Channeling Vanna White, Veronica waves her arm in front of the open door. “Just look at that roomy backseat, Wallace; if you shut your yap, it could be all yours.”

Wallace laughs and climbs into the backseat, shaking his head, and enjoying her antics despite his annoyance. He reaches back to put on his seatbelt, and as he’s clicking it into the lock, he notices a black backpack. It’s not really Veronica or Logan’s style, but it could be Keith’s, and sometimes Keith brings snacks when they’re on the road. Wallace’s stomach grumbles in agreement at the thought.

“Hey, V, your dad got a backpack back here? Cause I could use some bomb scare stress snacks.”

“What, no?” she says, leaning into the car, her gaze following Wallace's hand as he points to the bag. "Oh, that was Penn's. Stakeout snacks and his camera, I think. Watch out for the pee funnel.”

“Pee funnel? Gross. Maybe I’ll pass.” But the grumble in his stomach has him considering just being careful. Sealed snacks would be perfectly safe after all.

“You know they'll probably want that,” Keith says. “Feel free to steal the snacks, and I'll give the bag to Marsha."

With a nod, Wallace lifts the bag onto the seat next to him and unzips it. On top is a small digital camera and some Fritos. Not his favorite, but beggars can't be choosers. He plucks the bag of chips out and continues to search, hoping for something more exciting than a pee funnel deeper in the bag. Wallace's hand brushes against something cold and metal as he shifts the remaining contents around. He pulls the bag further open and peers inside. Pipes. No, not pipes, some kind of…

“Holy shit!” Wallace yanks his hand out of the bag, sending it crashing to the floor.

Wallace looks up and makes eye contact with Keith, who nods very slowly. “Wallace, I want you to unhook the seat belt, and get back out of the car.” Keith turns away from the car, and Wallace hears him shout, “Bomb tech, here now!”

Wallace can feel his heart beating out of his chest as he unclicks the seatbelt. The cool, dry touch of Veronica’s hand on his guides him out of the car, and back to safety.

“It’s probably nothing. Mystery snacks and bottled water.”

“Uh-huh. Probably, ‘cause I store my water in pipes.”

Veronica's breath catches, and her hand grips his, hard.

Wallace lets Veronica lead him away from the car, deeper into the parking lot where most of the band kids and student-athletes are still waiting for rides. Keith is a few steps behind them, and a bomb tech with a bomb-sniffing dog is headed for Veronica's little blue sports car.

“Hey, I still have news to tell you,” Veronica says, giving his hand a small tug.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Wallace asks, anything to get his mind off the possible bomb that he’d touched moments earlier.

“Logan asked me to marry him—”

“Girl, I know that, and the part where you turned him down,” Wallace says, his fear receding in the face of his vast disappointment in Veronica for her treatment of Logan.

She reaches into her pocket, fiddles with something in her hand, and then holds out her hand. The ring Logan had gotten her on her ring finger. “I changed my mind. We’re getting married today. Will you be one of our witnesses?”

Wallace lunges forward and wraps his arms around Veronica. “My man!”

“I think you mean ‘woman.’”

"Nope, I'm referring to Logan. He must be over the moon." Wallace releases Veronica from the hug. "I would be honored to stand up for you both. Are you happy, Veron—" 

A sharp bark interrupts him, and they all turn to see a German Shepard wearing a vest that says "Bomb Tech" being led away from Veronica's car by its handler. Keith pats Wallace on the back as he strides away, a bit off-balance, but with purpose, toward where the Chief of Police is reaming one of her officers. _Okay, so confirmed, I guess, I touched a bomb._

"Mac is going to be pissed she couldn't be here," Wallace says, trying to stick with the happy news as he turns back to Veronica. It's too late though; her face is blanched and she's visibly shaking. Wallace reaches out and pulls her in for a hug.

It takes a moment before he feels her relax in his embrace. “I guess we’ll have to do a reception later or something,” she says into his shoulder.

“Should I call Logan?”

Her head shakes against his chest. “He’ll want to postpone, and Penn Epner doesn’t get to take my wedding day from me.”

“Okay, V. Just tell me what I can do.”

“You can get us an Uber with that fancy phone of yours. I still need to get ready."

"You got it, V."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Irma for her editing! She has really put her all into these stories too :) To everyone who has been reading and commenting along the way, Thank you! it's so inspiring to hear how these stories are healing hearts and entertaining so many, I know that's what they are doing for me too. XOXO-KMD


	26. The One Where Mac is Back by MrsKissyT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed Mac. I had to bring her back!
> 
> Huge thanks to my girl Irma for her help at the eleventh hour on this one. I'd truly be lost without her.

“Ugh,” Veronica groaned, pulling up behind the apartment. “Someone’s parked in our spot again! What’s the point of a parking permit if they don’t enforce it?”

“Who cares?” Logan shrugged. He’d (finally!) married the love of his life, and couldn’t give a crap about much of anything else. “We’re not gonna be here long, just park in the empty lot over there.”

Grumbling under her breath, Veronica turned into the lot Logan had indicated, parking as close to their apartment as she could. Jumping out first, Logan hurried around the front of the car to open her door.

“M’lady,” he said, exaggerating a bow when she took his hand and stepped out with a very unbecoming snort. Closing the door behind her, he flung his arm across her shoulder as they walked towards their home.

“Think they’ll know it’s me if I puncture their tires?”

“Whoa there, Bobcat. Let’s not get you arrested just yet. We’ve only been married for an hour. I’d like to enjoy it for at least twenty four before Langdon comes to haul you away.”

“Child, please. Your wife is a seasoned P.I.,  _ and  _ excels at being sneaky,” she gloated. “And, is now  _ married _ to a Naval Intelligence Officer.  _ And _ did a stint at the FBI, learning all the tricks of the trade. I’d  _ totally _ get away with it.”

“Um, yeah, no. That ‘stint’ doesn’t count,” he challenged, air quoting his words.

“Oh, it  _ counts _ , my friend.”

“It was _six_ _weeks_.”

“It  _ so _ counts! They don’t just let  _ anyone _ into that program, you know. It’s fast paced, and they only admit the best of the best, which, as you well know, I  _ am _ ,” she insisted.

“Ah, ok. If you say so, wife.” Logan laughed, giving her shoulder a squeeze. 

Passing by the car, he noticed a familiar bumper sticker on the rear that said  _ Evil Genius. _ He glanced at Veronica, who must have also seen the same thing, judging by the look of recognition crossing her face.

“Pretty sure you won’t get away with anything you do to  _ that _ car.”

Her face lighting up, she reached up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss before rushing towards the stairs at the front of the building. Happy to see her so excited, he picked up his own pace and followed. Rounding the corner, he found the car’s owner sitting at the base of their steps, hovering over her phone. 

“Q! Back from your stint as someone else’s tech genius!” Veronica pulled Mac into a tight embrace when she stood.

“Well, hello to you too, Bond.” Mac laughed, extending an arm out to Logan when the women released each other. He took the remaining steps toward her and gave her a tight shoulder hug.

“Good to see you, Mac,” he said. “What brought you back so soon? We all thought you’d get a lucrative offer you couldn’t pass up, and abandon us for some hacker’s paradise.”

Mac laughed. “Actually, I did get the offer. Decided not to take it though. As much fun as it was to work on such a huge project in another country, I missed the thrill of digging that I get from being her Q.”

“We both know I’d be lost without you.” Veronica smiled. “So, since you’ve come all this way, can we buy you dinner? I don’t know about you folks, but after all of today’s excitement, I’m  _ starving _ .”

“When are you not?” Mac teased.

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, there’s that cafe we can walk to from here that has something for all of us. Let’s head there now and we can tell you all about what’s been going on. We’ve got time, right, Logan?”

“Yeah, sure. Let me just change our flight to Sedona. I can do that while we walk,” he said, reaching for his phone. 

“Sedona? As in honeymoon, right?” Mac asked as they headed for the restaurant. “Now that’s what _ I _ want to talk about. I texted Wallace when I landed this morning, and he told me he was gonna be a witness at your wedding. I didn’t believe him, so I came to verify for myself.”

“Finally tied her down. There’s no escape now,” Logan quipped. “They really should make it a National Holiday.” 

Mac laughed. “They really should.”

Several minutes later, the trio were seated at the busy outdoor cafe, conversing loudly over the television behind the bar.

“So...it was the pizza guy, in the basement, with the bomb?” Mac summarized, having listened to the shortened version of recent events. Logan was amused by the unimpressed look she had on her face. “How...unoriginal.”

“That’s what I said,” he agreed. “His ‘vendetta’ excuse was a pretty stupid reason for blowing people up.”

“And apparently he was  _ so _ clever, he left his clues in  _ limericks _ ,” Veronica scoffed.

Logan lifted his glass to hide his smile. He knew that kind of shit drove Veronica crazy. “What was the last one? Something about Fiji? Guess the guy’s never gonna make it there,” he said before taking a sip.

“Three laps 'round the sun, I'll be  _ gloating _ about more beautiful bodies  _ exploding _ . Their flesh we will  _ squeegee _ at midday 'round _ Fiji, _ plus the heroes upon whom...we're... doting." she recited, contemplating as she spoke.

“Wow, what brilliance,” Mac deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “Moving on, tell me, Mr Echolls-Mars. What led to  _ that _ choice of moniker?”

Logan shrugged. “Haven’t you heard? We’re unconventional now. It had to be done.” He gave Mac a wink in response to her amused look, before his attention shifted to the television. Someone had raised the volume for the  _ Breaking News _ report. Logan caught Mac’s eye and motioned to the television.

“Hey...Veronica?” Logan asked, slowly.

A disinterested “hmmm” was her only response, apparently too invested in her ice cream sundae to look up. 

“Is that your apartment?” Mac blurted out.

Logan watched as Veronica’s attention shifted, her spoon dropping into the bowl with a clatter as she gaped at the television. 

“Um, yeah that’s...that’s our place; what the hell happened?” 

The trio watched at the camera panned away from the reporter toward the backside of the apartment building.

“Uh...Bond?”

“Yeah?”

“Isn’t that...your car?”

“Yep.” She sighed, resting her elbow on the table, bringing a hand to her head while she watched. 

“What’s left of it anyway.” Logan lamented, wincing at the sight before him. He turned to Veronica. “I don’t understand, what — ”

“Oh God, oh  _ no _ ,” Veronica groaned. She grabbed for his hand and pulled it towards her.

“Penn! The  _ limerick _ ,” she whispered harshly. “Logan, it was about  _ me _ . The final bomb wasn’t at Kane High, it was for  _ me _ . That rat bastard…”

“Kane High? What are you talking about? Veronica, you said he was arrested. I thought — ”

Veronica cut him off before he could continue his questioning. “He must have left a bomb in the back of my car...”

“Penn Epner was in your  _ car _ ? Veronica!” 

“Bond, rule number one! Always check the back seat! You used to bug me about that _all_ _the_ _time_…”

“You guys!” she hissed, banging both palms against the table, loud enough to draw the attention of the other patrons. 

“Don’t you get it? Logan, what if we’d been in the car?” She drew in a shaky breath. “We could be dead right now.” 

Not wanting to let her go down that rabbit hole, Logan reached across the table to cup her face with his hand, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

“Hey, don’t do that,” he soothed, offering her a gentle smile. “Don’t let that asshole into your head anymore, Veronica. It’s what he wants. Fuck him, OK? We’re all safe.”

“Yeah, forget about him, Veronica,” Mac agreed. “So he blew up your car. Don’t let him ruin your day.”

Still leaning into Logan’s palm, Veronica scoffed and shook her head. “You know how ridiculous that sounds, right?” When Mac nodded, Veronica sighed. “That Mother Cusser.”

Logan smiled at her pouty face. “I think in this instance, the expletive is OK.” He bopped her on the nose. “I won’t tell Keith. Spousal privilege and all that.”

Sitting back, he laughed when her phone began to ring, the photo of _Mars_ _numero uno _appearing. “Speaking of. It’s like he’s got ESPN, or something.” The glare Veronica shot him made him laugh louder. “What?”

“My car was blown to smithereens, and you’re over here quoting Mean Girls?” she chided, the smile she was trying to suppress breaking through as she picked up the phone, stabbing at the screen with her index finger. 

“Anything to make you smile.” 

Veronica rolled her eyes as she stood. “Hello, Daddio, seen anything good on TV lately,” she said into the phone, then kissed the top of Logan’s head and headed for the door.

“Don’t be long, Bobcat,” he called after her.

“You know, it’s never this bad when  _ you’re _ gone. I leave for six months and all hell breaks loose!” Mac said in disbelief.

“Tell me about it,” Logan agreed. “I’m thinking an extended honeymoon is the way to go, right about now. Somewhere far,  _ far _ away from here”. 

“I’ve got an unoccupied apartment in Istanbul if you wanna use that,” Mac offered. 

“Maybe not  _ that _ far…”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, wherever you both end up, take all the time you need. I’ll hold down the fort at Mars Investigations.” 

Touched by her offer, Logan gave her a nod. “You’re a good friend, Mac.” 

They fell into silence as they watched the live coverage. Logan knew Veronica has been right. Things could have turned out  _ much _ worse, even if this wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured his wedding day going. 

“Things in Neptune never really change, do they?” Mac asked. 

“No rest for the wicked, as they say,” he mused.

“At least there are those of us still here that are willing to keep fighting the good fight though, huh?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, catching Veronica’s gaze as she walked back to their table. He smiled. “Some things are worth fighting for.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It warms my heart to know how much you are all enjoying these. I'm reading along with all of you for the first time too, and am just blown away by the sheer brilliance of these writers. 
> 
> FanFic saves lives, y'all. It really does. Continue to support content creators. Your encouragement goes a long way. <3


	27. The One With The Snap by CattyK8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's another Marvel cross-over that might not make sense if you haven’t seen _Avengers: Infinity War_.

She rushes back to the window, the limerick finally making sense, but it’s too late, and the world goes white and the roar in her ears overwhelms her. She doesn’t even register she’s been thrown back upon the bed.

There’s a moment where she feels the shock in her heart, in her limbs, in her toes. She doesn’t pass out, but there is an indeterminable amount of time when she knows nothing except that the world has blown apart, has turned to ashes. She lies there, maybe for seconds, maybe for minutes, maybe even for hours. It doesn’t matter. She wishes for oblivion.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead there is the feeling of reality snapping into place as she knows, she _ knows_, everything that has led her to this moment and everything she could have done, simple changes of direction she could have made, that could have prevented this.

Saying yes to his proposal.

Checking the back seat.

Giving a thorough report to the police and insisting they take the backpack as evidence.

What does it matter?

She wakes up, and she knows what destruction her decisions have wrought upon her life. She stares up at the ceiling, unseeing. Thinks, _ The world is ashes now_.

And she doesn’t get up. Why should she? Logan is gone. What does it matter?

It doesn’t occur to her until later that no one has come to check on her.

It doesn’t occur to her until later that no first responders have arrived, even though surely the neighbors would have heard and reported the explosion.

It’s almost twelve hours later that she realizes the truth of that first coherent thought in her head, when hammering at her door reveals a desperate-faced Dick Casablancas, babbling stories of how he’d been at a bar and half the people had just started disappearing bit by bit, like someone erased them out of existence.

In that moment after the bomb, she had no idea how right she’d been.

The world is ashes. Or a lot of it, anyway. It will be much, much later that everyone will learn that exactly half the world has disintegrated into ashes, some before the eyes of their loved ones.

Her own circle, close as it is, isn’t spared. Because when was she ever so lucky? Wallace and his whole family are gone, except for his brother Darrell, whose face is made of terror and grief and shock, who’d been given a ride by an equally shell-shocked PCHer who’d told her Weevil had disappeared right off the top of his bike. Alicia had fallen into nothingness, right in front of her son.

Keith was nowhere to be found, and Veronica knows he would have rushed to her the first chance he got, had he survived whatever had happened. Phone lines are congested, so she has no idea who else the strange phenomenon has claimed.

Her thoughts about the whole thing are selfish. Why couldn’t she have been one of the ones to disappear piece by piece? She’d survived high school in Neptune. She’d survived Aaron Echolls. Hell, she’d survived the Battle of New York, and she hadn’t even been late to graduate from Columbia.

And then she realizes something: the time the bomb went off just about coincides with the time everyone starts turning to dust.

The moment she has the thought she is flying downstairs, onto the street, staring at the ruins of her car. There’s been no one to tow it away, so it sits, a blackened, burnt-out husk. But she’d never seen a body. Or even pieces of one. And she knows, she knows, that there’s a possibility the dust at her feet is made up of what used to be her husband.

But for the first time since she woke up in that bed, she has a shred of hope. Maybe he didn’t die in the explosion. Maybe he disappeared, unexplainably, just like so many other people.

It’s not a happy thought, no. He’s still _ gone_. The sheets are cool on the side of the bed where he used to sleep. She misses his smirk, that gooey chocolate-eyed look he reserves just for her, his witty remarks. She even misses his anger, the way he pushes her to see the parts of herself she’d rather keep in the dark. Later, she’ll realize it’s funny how, in his absence, she finds herself holding them up to the light, remembering their arguments, his sad eyes.

In this moment, though, there is hope—she refuses to call it denial. Because in a world where aliens come from wormholes in the sky and the Avengers either beat them back or killed them dead, in a world where robots gain consciousness and lay waste to countries, only to have the Avengers save the day… In _ this _ world? Gone in an impossible phenomenon may not mean dead.

It gives her better options than the bomb, anyway.

And she knows what she has to do. Who she has to contact.

Because Cindy “Mac” Mackenzie might be good at covering her tracks. She might have sold everyone in her life on the idea that she is doing god knows what in Istanbul, Turkey. Except Veronica is a damned good investigator, when she doesn’t have her head up her own ass like she did this whole fucking spring with this bombing case. And her friend had said too many things that just didn’t add up.

So she knows Mac is an agent of SHIELD. And SHIELD means the Avengers.

Which means her “Q” can help her get in touch with the people who can fix this.

She refuses to let herself think, even for a second, that this is going to be one of those unfixable things, like Lilly Kane dying at sixteen or Ultron and the whole mess that happened in Sokovia. Please, god, there has to be a way to fix this. 

No. Screw that. The Avengers are going to fix this. And Veronica Mars is going to help them.

Because, goddamn it, she’s getting her husband back, and if she has to take on rampaging aliens, murderous robots, or insane world conquerors for the sake of one Lt. Logan Echolls… Well. Bring it on.

It’s not like he isn’t worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just remember, this is a collection entitled 'Logan Lives', so even though you don't see him here, rest assured, he's going to. This is actually going to be worked into a full-fledged crossover fic with an HEA (because of course there needs to be one!) following the events of _Avengers: Endgame_, so if you liked this, please keep an eye out for it!


	28. The One Where C.W. Saves The Day by EllieBear

"Get a room," Keith chuckled as he threw his arm around Wallace's shoulders, walking away from the newlyweds.

Logan didn't care. This was the happiest day of his life, and if he wanted to make-out in with his new wife, in full view of the massive courthouse windows, he was going to do it. After everything they had been through, it was the least they deserved, a few moments of bliss wrapped in each other's arms, their lips firmly locked together.

Someone cleared their throat behind them, and Logan released Veronica's lips momentarily, pressing his forehead against hers but not turning around.

"I promise, Keith, give us a few minutes, and we'll get a room…"

"Special Agent Echolls." 

The deep, masculine voice resonated low in Logan's consciousness, causing him to involuntarily tense.

_ Fuck. _

Veronica's forehead wrinkled against his, and he whispered, "Just ignore him."

"Agent Echolls, you've been ignoring me all day."

"I have, C.W. As you could probably deduce by the location and the white dress on Veronica, I was kind of busy getting married."

Turning, he slid his arm around Veronica's waist, keeping her close as he turned to face Clarence Wiedman. As always, Wiedman looked unfazed by his antics—a demeanour he had perfected over the past three years as Logan's handler.

"The security of the United States waits for no man, Echolls."

"Yes, well, when your girlfriend of five years says she wants to marry you immediately, one tends to ignore such things as phone calls and texts from the office. In this one instance, the fate of the world can, indeed, wait." 

Glancing down at Veronica, her soft features from only minutes ago were now replaced by a confused V etched deep between her brows. He had always tried to protect her from his life as an intelligence officer. She was about to learn a lot, very quickly, if this conversation continued.

"There is a situation that needs your attention immediately. Now, I'm sorry that I have to tear you away from such an important occasion…"

"Oh, no. No, no, no." Veronica held her index finger up, shaking it rapidly back and forth at Wiedman. "You guys get him all the time. We can't even make dinner plans without the U.S. Government swooping in to steal my boyfriend…I mean, husband…"

She paused, a blissful smile automatically pulling against her anger and Logan couldn't help but smile back at the mention of his new moniker.

"Get someone else to take the case, C.W.—Veronica and I have a honeymoon to go on."

"Exactly!" Veronica wrapped her arm around Logan's waist, her eyes narrowing as her voice dropped and she turned slightly away from C.W.'s gaze. "Wait? Does this mean he has to kill me, now that I know his secret?"

"Ms. Mars, you kept the secret of where you hid Duncan Kane from the F.B.I. for years," Wiedman's voice was low, a twinge of ironic pride behind his words. "I'm confident you won't reveal my connection to Agent Echolls to anyone, for everyone's sake."

"You can flatter my wife all you want; I'm still not leaving Veronica on our wedding day. Right here and now is where I draw my line in the sand. I've spent my entire career in service to this country, and this is the one time—the only time—I will ever say no to an assignment. It's the least you can do for me, after everything I've done."

C.W.'s eyes narrowed, and he stretched out his arm, exposing his wrist from under the sleeve of his suit jacket. Scowling at his watch, he placed his thumb on the face and waited a moment before punching in something with his index finger. Veronica shifted uncomfortably next to Logan until C.W. finally lowered his arm, letting out a defeated sigh.

"Fine. What about if I offer you this—your assignment is to meet our contact in Hawaii—if you both come with me right now, your cover will be that you're on your honeymoon with your new wife. We'll put you up at the Four Seasons resort, and once you acquire the information you need, you will have the rest of the week to properly honeymoon in Maui with Ms. Mars on the U.S. Government."

Logan couldn't help the jackass grin that spread across his face as he looked down at Veronica's shocked eyes blinking back at him.

"I say that's better than Sedona. What do you think, honey?"

"But…Pony…and packing…"

C.W. held out his palm, stopping Veronica mid-planning. "All expenses will be paid. We have a car waiting for Agent Echolls that can take you both to the airport immediately. I'll authorize your Gold Card, Logan, so you can buy whatever you need for clothing and suitcases when you land. Once you are en-route, I will arrange for Pony to be well taken care of, and your car will be driven to a safe location until you can retrieve it upon your return."

Arching her eyebrow at Logan, Veronica grinned, her eyes sparkling back at him at the prospect of this adventure. He knew that he couldn't have arranged a better wedding gift for her if he tried. The chance to get out of Neptune and find out what he truly did for a living was exactly what she wanted. And now, he was getting the opportunity to show her—no more checking his bags when he came home from assignment and making guesses as to his whereabouts and activities. She would get to see him in full action, doing what he loved, and he couldn't wait. 

Chuckling, Logan kissed her gently on the forehead. "Now, if you come, you have to promise not to get too involved in my assignment."

Pressing two fingers together, Veronica crossed her heart with her other fingers, trying to keep the giddiness at bay. "I promise!"

C.W. let out another loud sigh, and Logan looked over to see him roll his eyes. Logan knew it was a promise she'd never be able to keep, but he was excited by the prospect of seeing what exactly would happen.

"Fine, then, Mrs. Mars, let's go." Logan offered her his arm, and she threaded her arm through, patting his shoulder as she came in closer.

"Okay, Mr. Mars. I'm all in."

**One year later**

Veronica rolled her eyes at the television screen over the bar. "Real Mysteries" sounded so strange when dubbed into Turkish. She had seen it several times when they were stateside, and since this episode was all about the "Pizza Bomber," she didn't need translation—she knew the story by heart. It started with the lonely Pizza Man, bombing the quiet city of Neptune, and ended with him being incarcerated for life in federal prison for the death of two military officers when her car, containing the last bomb, exploded on a base. Labelled a terrorist, there would be no "out" for Penn in any of their lifetimes.

"I still think Mark-Paul Gosselaar should have played me." Logan's voice filled Veronica's ear, and she pressed her diamond earrings to adjust the volume, keeping her eyes fixed on the T.V. screen.

"I told you to wait for the inevitable Netflix movie. This is just a cheap E! News episode."

Her eyes darted to the mirror behind the bar as she raised her glass to her lips, and she caught a glance of him at the table a few yards behind her, taking a deep puff from a tall Hookah pipe. Under his thick beard, dyed black hair, and Ray-Bans, he almost blended in with the other men in the bar. However, the fact that he was lounging awkwardly on two pillows in the booth looked not only uncomfortable but also slightly out of place.

"How are your nuts?"

"Terrible. Taking an assignment just after having a vasectomy was a bad move."

"Have I mentioned how much I love that you did this for my anniversary gift? Don't worry, baby; we'll dip you in ice when we get back to our hotel."

"Doesn't matter. I just keep thinking about all the fun things we can do to each other without having to worry about…"

"Might I remind you two, I am on this channel as well." C.W.'s voice broke into the conversation, causing Veronica to snort a tiny laugh, covering her mouth to hide her smile from the bartender. "And I suggest both of you concentrate more on the assignment than flirting using Government intelligence lines. Again."

Arching her eyebrow at Logan's reflection, Veronica grinned mischievously. Logan once told her their love was epic, spanning years, continents, lives ruined, bloodshed. Since they both joined forces—Veronica contracting to the U.S. Government while maintaining Mars Investigations as her cover and Logan on active duty, assigned to the C.I.A.—he had made good on the continents and bloodshed portion, all the while proving their love continued to be epic every day. The thrill of the chase kept a fire in both their bellies, for their work and for each other. Every day together was an adventure, the likes of which they could never have imagined.

"Target at the door," Logan murmured, his voice suddenly serious.

Tossing a section of her black wig over her shoulder, Veronica spun on her stool, crossing one bare leg over the other, careful not to lose a high heel in the move.

"I'm on it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have played fast and loose with how one progresses in a military intelligence career but screw it, if RT can do it and get paid, I can do it for free.


	29. The One Where Common Sense Prevails by Irma66

Logan straightens his fingers, then re-laces them through Veronica's and lifts their joined hands to his lips. She smiles up at him, radiant in her happiness. He gives her one more kiss before dropping their hands between them. 

"I can't believe you wouldn't let us Uber home," Veronica said. "If you keep this up, I'm going to start believing Dick when he says you're poor."

Logan shook his head. "Dick's pretty sure that if you don't own at least two houses, you're destitute." 

"You don't own any."

"Hey, you wanted to rent, so we rent. When you're good with us buying a house, I have more than enough money in the bank to pay cash for anything you're likely to agree to." They reach the end of the sidewalk, and before she can step off the curb to cross the street, he turns and grabs her at the waist, lifting her as he twirls her off the sidewalk. She laughs, her head falling back, and he leans in to kiss her neck. 

"No making out in the middle of the street," she scolds, still laughing, and he blows a raspberry against her neck. She shrieks and jerks back, slapping at his arm, but he yanks her to him and settles his arm around her shoulders as they cross to the opposite sidewalk and continue on their way home.

"It's Spring Break," he says. "People are having sex in the street."

"No, they are not. Now you sound like Big Dick." She stops and grimaces. "Uhh, sorry. That was—"

"Yeah. Ugh. I just can't believe that happened. Poor Dick. He and his dad have been reconnecting over the last year. This is going to be so hard on him." He kisses the top of her head. "I need to try and reach him before we leave on our honeymoon. He's going to need to know he still has someone."

Veronica nods. "Yeah, I get it. If you need to stay here...to be here for him—"

"No. It's not like we're going to be gone forever. You gave me a long weekend for a honeymoon, and Dick might not even make it home before we do. He's shooting in Romania still. I don't know if he'll risk that job to come home to a dead dad."

"I would."

"Yeah, but it's not the same. I wouldn't have, in his place. I'd lay as low as possible for as long as possible. Clyde will take care of the formalities. Dick just has to show up and look pretty."

Veronica raises her eyebrows. "Is there something I should know?" Logan laughs and shakes his head. 

"Nah. Dick's tried more than once, but I've been holding out for you as my first and only wife."

"I knew there was a reason he doesn't like me." They turn onto the street that runs behind their apartment. "He only got to be a concubine."

"Yes, that must be it." Logan pulls her more snugly against him, tipping his head to the side to rest against hers. "I still can't really believe it. My wife."

"First and only." 

"Yes, first and only."

As they reach the stairs leading up to their apartment, Veronica steps onto the first riser and turns, tugging Logan in so they're face-to-face with him standing right below her. He's still taller than she is, with only a one-step advantage, but not by as much, and she loops her arms around his neck and smiles up at him. 

"I love you, Logan. I'm sorry I was such a bitch before, when you tried to—"

"Uh uh. Bygones." He leans down for a quick kiss on the lips. "None of that matters to me. We're here now, and I don't want to waste our first moments together as husband and wife worrying about old stuff." He leans in again, and she surges up to meet him, the kiss longer and more impassioned than before. 

After a moment, he bends a little at the knees and sweeps her into a bridal carry. She laughs against his mouth, then pulls away to tuck her head into the crook of his neck. "Is this the part where we consummate?" she asks, and he nods emphatically. 

"Most definitely, yes."

They're nearly to the top of the stairs when a thought occurs, and he groans. 

"What?" she asks, her head popping up to look at him with concern. 

"It's like quarter to Five."

"Something like that. So?"

"Are you ever going to remember? Gotta move the car." He turns them to face the street, where her car sits at the opposite curb.

"Later," she croons, and nestles against him again, trailing kisses up his neck. He shudders and turns back, bolting up the stairs as quickly as he can with his new wife in his arms licking his ear lobe. He wrestles his house key out of his jacket pocket and struggles to get the door open while Veronica continues to try to distract him with kisses and breathy laughter. Once they're inside, he carries her into the bedroom where he drops her carefully on the bed.

"Stay right there," he says in a stern tone. She blinks up at him in surprise.

"So, it's like that now, hmm?" she replies. "I just do what you tell me."

"I'm strongly suggesting that you wait there while I move the car. It makes no sense to start something that we have to stop in a few minutes, when we can just hang on for mere moments, and then we don't have to get dressed again for hours."

She gives a speculative hum, her brow furrowing and her mouth twisting like she's weighing her options. He smirks and shrugs, hands raised in a 'whatever you want' gesture. "And, if you just go along with this infinitely sensible idea, I will make it so worth your while."

It's only a few seconds before she shrugs back. "Okay, fine. I'll wait. But I'll be expecting a little extra from you for this concession."

He grabs her hand and pulls her upright again, crashing their lips together in an open-mouthed, tongue tangling kiss. When her arms start to slip up around his neck, he jerks away once more. 

"One of these days you'll remember that that hunk of junk is _your_ car, not mine. You should be the one moving it, not me."

"Aren't car-related duties one of the reasons to get a husband?" she asks, fighting a smile.

"Yes. Next I'll be changing the oil myself."

Her laugh is mocking, and she stands, giving him a prim kiss. "Thank you, _Husband_, for taking care of my car. If you hurry, maybe I'll have something a little extra for you. Show of gratitude, ya know?"

He grins and gives her a thumbs-up, then turns and bolts for the kitchen counter where the car keys sit. Her shout of "Hurry it up, Echolls," echoes after him as he heads downstairs at a run. He's got the car moved around the corner onto the cross street in less than a minute, and then he's sprinting back and taking the stairs two at a time.

Back in the apartment, he pauses in the bedroom door. Veronica is back on the bed, but in only her bra, panties, and chunky heels, propped up on her elbows. She laughs as he pants from his unexpected workout.

"Okay, then," he says, slipping out of his jacket and tossing it in the general direction of the closet as he moves toward the bed. "Let the consummating begin."


	30. The One With The Moments of Clarity by CubbieGirl1723

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to MarshmellowBobcat for the starting prompt. Fair warning, this one doesn’t have a happy ending...yet. 
> 
> In case you haven’t watched Episode 7, I wanted to share a tiny bit of stage setting because we’re picking up in the middle of a scene and going AU from there. Logan was away on assignment, Veronica behaved badly with Leo, and then she and Keith had a near death experience. When Logan returns, Veronica accepts his earlier marriage proposal, citing a ‘moment of clarity’...

“You had a moment of clarity, Veronica? Well, so did I.” 

Veronica steps back from Logan, the space between them leaving her cold. His voice is low, anguished. 

“I don’t want to marry someone who needs a brush with death to decide they want me. You know I’ll always care about you but I can’t be with you right now.”

“Wait, what? Are you breaking up with me?” She knows she’s practically screeching but she can’t help it. She just told him she wants to marry him. How could he be breaking up with her?

Everything’s been so hard lately, she just wants to hide under the covers with Logan and shut out the world. Preferably after three or four orgasms. 

But Logan nods sadly. “I’ve been so focused on your happiness, Veronica, but Jane helped me see—”

“Oh, Jane, of course.”

Why is it that every time he brings up Jane, it proceeds news she doesn’t want to hear?  _ I’m so sick of fucking Jane.  _

He ignores her outburst and continues, speaking over her. “Jane helped me see that it’s okay for me to want to be happy, too.”

Veronica takes a deep breath, scrabbling for a semblance of control.  _ Be a big girl. Figure out how to fix this. _

“Look, Logan, I know I haven’t really been trying lately. It’s just—the bombings and my dad and—I promise I’ll do better. 50-50 partnership, from here on out.”

She gives him a tremulous smile and tilts her head.  _ Please, please don’t leave me. I can’t handle it right now.  _

“That’s the thing, Veronica. I don’t want a 50-50 partnership. I want someone who’s all in, 100 percent. I used to think you were but—”

“Look, I know I said no the first time you asked, Logan, but I just needed some time to think about it. Marriage has never been my idea of happily ever after but—” She reaches for his hand but he takes a step back, bumping up against the cabinet. 

“It’s not even about that, Veronica. Things were bad before I asked you to marry me. I stupidly thought that would fix it.” 

He runs a hand through his hair and the severity of the situation hits her. Panic blooms in her chest. She can’t breathe. 

Logan’s words cut through the anxiety buzzing in her brain. 

“I don’t know if it’s Neptune, your dad, the case, or what, but you’ve been unhappy for a long time. You don’t want to spend time with Wallace, you could have cared less that I was gone, you ignored me on Skype, and I don’t even know where to start when it comes to your attitudes about therapy and ‘Logan Lite.’ I just—”

“Is this about the therapy thing again?” she snaps. She thought she was going to die tonight, in that deserted cabin in the woods. In that moment, all she wanted was Logan. She finally decided to marry him. And he’s bringing up therapy?  _ If that’s what it takes to get him to drop it.  _

“Fine, I’ll go to therapy with you!” 

But he doesn’t agree, doesn’t sweep her up and kiss her and make all her demons recede. He crosses his arms over his chest and takes another step back, leaning against the kitchen sink.

“The Veronica I used to know always believed I could be better. I made myself better—for you. And then it still wasn’t good enough. You—you’ve always been a bitch, Veronica, but you used to be nice, too.”

“Nice? You want me to be nice? Logan, you must not know me at all!” She throws her hands up and retreats to pace the living room in a tight, angry circle. 

_ What the hell does he want? Why does this have to happen now? _

“I used to, Veronica. I used to think I knew you better than anyone else could, ever. But every day, you put more distance between us, and in spite of everything I do to be more open to you... you just keep shutting me out. I don’t even know what I did.” 

Logan sighs again and rubs the back of his neck. “Look, I’m gonna go crash with Dick for a few days and then I’ll be...deployed for a while. So I’ll be out of your hair and you can—”

“Where are you going?” She stops her pacing to stare, unseeing, out the windows. She can’t look at him or the tears swimming in her eyes will overflow and she can’t—she just can’t. Arms crossed over her chest, she barely keeps it together.

“You know I can’t tell you.” His voice is quiet, hoarse with emotion, but Veronica can’t answer over the tears choking her. Another second and she’ll be bawling her eyes out. She clears her throat, tries to make her words sound normal. 

“Okay. I’m just gonna…” She heads to the door, snagging her bag on the way. She can’t bring herself to look into his brown eyes, it would wreck her. “You can have some time to grab what you need.” 

She flees, slamming the door behind her. Running down the stairs to the beach, the sobs rip out of her raw throat. Her purse bangs against her legs but she doesn’t slow down until she reaches the shoreline. 

Dropping to her knees, the cold from the sand seeps through her jeans. Her chest heaves and her breath comes in great gulps. She’s a mess, and trying to wipe her face with the sleeve of her black leather jacket doesn’t help.

_ You’ll just ruin the leather, Veronica, and it’s not like you can afford to have it dry cleaned. _

The thought only makes her sob harder. 

_ How could I let this happen? Where do I go from here? _

Veronica sits on the beach, crying, until she calms, balling the wet sand into clumps in her fists. 

_ You’ll do what you always do, Veronica _ , she thinks to herself.  _ You’ll solve the case, put the bad guy behind bars, and keep moving on. Don’t let anyone in and you can’t get hurt.  _

Stumbling back to their apartment, she steels herself for what she’ll find there. With a fortifying breath, she fishes her keys out of her bag and unlocks the door. Pony bowls her over but she can’t muster up the strength to even interact with her. She gives her some awkward pats and inspects the small space.

Logan doesn’t have much in the way of possessions, but the bare spots—on his nightstand where his favorite pictures used to sit, in the shower where he kept his shampoo, empty hangers in his half of the closet—are glaring. The worst is the shiny silver key, staring at her from the kitchen counter.

Without even bothering to undress, Veronica flops down onto the bed. It still smells like Logan and she wraps herself up in the sheets, burying her face in his pillow. Maybe if she closes her eyes, she can convince herself he’s still here. 

Pony hops up on the bed, her warm weight a comforting presence. Veronica doesn’t bother to enforce the rules and make her sleep in her dog bed. 

_ Why bother? It’s not like I need to leave room for Logan. _

The bleak thought starts another round of tears, dampening Logan’s pillow beneath her cheek. Exhausted, she finally drops into a restless sleep.

* * *

After a near-death experience with a drug cartel and the worst breakup she’s ever suffered, Veronica throws herself into the bombing case with a new fervor. Following Penn Epner around town and watching her dad dismantle the bomb at Kane High School certainly take her mind off her personal turmoil. 

Now, though, she shies away from thinking about how close she came to losing him and the sheer panic she felt most of the afternoon. 

_ Keep moving, Veronica. Think about something else. _

Don’t think about the fact that he’s all you have now that Logan…

_ Nope. _

She lingers in the parking lot, not having anywhere better to be. The letdown from the end of the case threatens to suffocate her so she stays, answering questions from the police and watching them collect evidence. Anything to avoid returning to her empty apartment, facing the fact that Logan’s not there.

She expects relief to fill her as the squad car carries Penn off to the station but something about his words niggles in the back of her mind…

_ Heroes… _

_ IF I’m able to visit him… _

_ His stupid limerick… _

It hits her like a ton of bricks. 

_ I know what happened. _

Veronica glances at her watch. 

4:58pm.

“There’s another bomb!” she yells, jumping up off the curb where she had been absently studying the high school.

Every eye turns to her, incredulous. 

_ Where else could Penn have planted it? _

Her gaze darts around the parking lot, thinking fast, until it lights upon her blue car.

“The backpack.” Turning to her dad, she grabs his arm. “It was so important to him, remember?”

Comprehension dawns on Keith’s face. “The backpack,” he repeats, then yells, “Check Veronica’s car!”

She rushes over to try to see in the car window, but he pulls her back. Thankfully, Langdon had called the bomb techs and they’re still on site, carefully disposing of the explosives that Keith had defused. They swarm her Hyundai Tiburon, shouting commands and moving with an efficiency she hadn’t thought possible in Neptune.

Veronica stands on tiptoe to see what’s going on, but she can’t get past the wall of police officers that’s formed in front of her vehicle.

Changing her tactic, she takes advantage of her size and peers down low through the crowd. One of the bomb techs pulls her backpack out of the car, examining it with a panicked look on her face. 

“There’s no time!” The tech shoves it back inside and slams the car door. “Get everyone to safety!”

Gripping Keith’s arm tightly, Veronica hustles him over to the main entrance of the new high school. The alcove created by the overhang isn’t ideal cover but it’s better than nothing. He limps and stumbles as best he can. Veronica vows to pay more attention to what’s really going on with him. 

For some reason, the thought that runs through her head has nothing to do with their safety, but the surety that Jake Kane will be so pissed if his new school blows up. She stifles a hysterical giggle, remembering the look on his face when she interrupted his speech. And poor Mr. Clemmons. He glared at her the whole time he and Wallace hustled the students back onto the bus to safety. 

_ You’d think saving their lives would earn me some brownie points. But— _

The blast from the bomb rocks the mob congregating in the entryway. Veronica’s knocked off her feet, then is helped up by one of the police officers. 

As the smoke clears, the bomb techs rush to put out the fire. Veronica’s car is a mess of flames and twisted metal. 

Her stomach clenches and she drops back to the ground, legs splaying out in front of her, the breath rushing out of her lungs. 

_ I could have been in there. If we were still sharing a car, Logan could have been in there.  _

Fumbling in her purse, her shaking hands close around her cell phone. Without giving it a second thought, she presses his name, operating more on muscle memory than anything. 

“Hi, you’ve reached Logan. Leave a message.”

Of course she gets his voicemail. He broke up with her, told her he was being deployed. He could already be gone, for all she knows. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to take her call.

_ When did he stop leaving inspirational greetings, anyway? Why didn’t I notice? What else has changed about Logan that I missed? _

The voicemail beeps and she realizes silence is spooling over the line.

“Uh, Logan, it’s me. There was a bomb. Well, two bombs, actually. But we caught the bomber and everyone’s fine. I just wanted you to know in case...you heard about it.”

Still aching for Logan, she hangs up. She wants to track his phone, find him, throw herself into his arms. 

_ What would he say if he were here? _

She scrubs at her eyes, then stands and turns to her dad, thoughtfully giving her space a few feet behind her. She moves next to him and, in silence, they watch the emergency personnel begin to tackle the mess. Looking at the carnage of her car and her life, she knows.

“Maybe Logan was right...about all of it,” she murmurs to herself.

“What’s that, honey?” He wraps his arm around her shoulders and she leans in, gathering courage. 

“I think Logan was right. It’s time, Dad,” she responds. 

“Time for what?”

“Time to get help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is continued in [Part 4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21708193) of the Logan Lives series. 
> 
> This is my last fic for this amazing collection and I just want to thank the Necromancers for inviting me and generally being awesome ladies. It’s been so fun to get to know you and benefit from your talent. It’s been a great experience! Logan Lives!


	31. The One Where Veronica Goes To Hell by Chikabiddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Logan is dead in the beginning of this one. As it is a Logan Lives story, I promise he will be back but he isn't yet by the end of this chapter. It is semi-dark and I wanted to be upfront so anyone who wants to opt-out can do so now. I hope you'll stick with it, though! I am really proud of this one.

Veronica knows everyone is worried about her. She can feel it in their looks. Hear it in their hushed voices. What do they expect from her? A week ago, her life was literally blown to pieces. Her dad keeps dropping hints for therapy, and Mac keeps offering spa days. Wallace just sits with her. At least he seems to know what will actually help. 

Veronica doesn’t remember anything about the first two days. She has glimpses of the third and fourth. The fifth day, she actually got out of bed. And today she decides she’s going to bring Logan back. 

It isn’t fair. Logan deserves to be alive. He’s the good one. He had his life together. He changed himself, bettered himself, became more than the past that tried to break him. So she’s going to fix it. She’s Veronica Fucking Mars and the universe will not take Logan Echolls-Mars from her. She refuses to let it. 

She tries good old fashioned prayer first. If there is a God, surely he understands why it isn’t Logan’s time. She gives up on that after less than a day. 

Witchcraft might offer something more effective. She drives to a few different wicca/occult stores, one over six hours away. Her dad calls her when she’s halfway home but she ignores it. There’s nothing he can say she hasn’t already thought herself. 

Mac catches her when she’s trying the first spell. She thinks Mac may rat her out, tell her dad she’s breaking. Instead, Mac sits by her, helps her with the pronunciation, offers to drive with her next time she needs supplies. 

It’s been another week and thirteen unsuccessful spells. The smell of burnt feathers and old dirt lingers in her apartment. Small bones, stones, trinkets and jewels are littered across the space. Pony rarely leaves the bedroom.

Mac left three days ago, something about talking to a friend, and Veronica is barely hanging on. One failure after another weighs on her. She tries runes during Mac’s absence. It’s difficult to find information on runes and exactly how to scribe them. She does her best. 

She also reaches out online. Posts in any forum she can find offering money, of which she now has far too much, for suggestions and advice. Some recommend the spells she already tried. Some tell her she’s crazy to try. She stays away from blood magic, the images and descriptions she was sent still turn her stomach. But she does pay half a million dollars for a tome specializing in resurrections. 

She feels more hope than she has in weeks when it arrives. It smells of old leather and dust. The pages feel brittle to the touch. The next two days are dedicated to the painstaking recreation of every ritual. She doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, just keeps trying.

None of it works.

Her dad stops by after three days of no contact, no food, no rest, no results, and she turns away from the horror written all over his face. He doesn’t understand, could never understand what it feels like to lose your better half because he always was the better half. 

Mac still isn’t back, at week three. Her dad pries, asking about her health, texting or calling multiple times a day to make sure she eats. Coming over at night to make sure she stops and tries to sleep. She never does. 

He finally asks how much she’s spent and she says she doesn’t know, doesn’t care. Maybe millions by this point. But money is worthless and Logan is everything.

Mac gets back halfway through week four as she’s trying an old Norse ritual. Someone emailed it to her, anonymously, not requesting anything in return. Her hand shakes as she scribes the runes. She stumbles over the foreign pronunciation. It doesn’t work. 

Mac tells her where she’s been. Back in Istanbul, talking to a friend she made there. A friend who knew someone who knew of someone who was brought back to life. Veronica’s heart stops as Mac details how she tracked down the actual person. The person who said it’s true, confirmed it is possible. It is possible. 

There are instructions, long and detailed instructions. Mac says Veronica must follow them to the letter. That’s the only way for it to work. And the key is, it cannot be their time to die. If it is their time to die, you can’t get them back. Veronica isn’t worried. It wasn’t Logan’s time to die. 

There is no way to express thanks for what Mac has given her, and Veronica can’t find the words anyway. Mac assures her she doesn’t need them. It wasn’t Logan’s time, and Veronica needs to bring him back. That’s all the thanks Mac wants.

Veronica knows her journey is going to be long, so she prepares accordingly and as quickly as she can. The instructions say she needs to go in late Spring, and late Spring is right now. She takes less than a day to get everything together.

She buys hiking boots, the expensive kind. She buys far too many prepackaged meals and a backpack to carry them. And she buys everything she thinks she might need and all the materials to get Logan back. An extra coat, a white rose, a blanket, flashlight, loads of batteries, and bottles and bottles of water. 

Before she leaves, she weighs what Logan’s most prized possession would be. It cannot be herself, or Pony… She wanders the apartment looking for something he cares deeply about. She passes their dresser and the metal glint of his Grandfather’s old lighter catches her eye. It’s perfect and she pockets it. 

The instructions say she needs to go to a forest, the thicker the better. Google Maps shows nothing close to her is what she considers dense. She decides to go to the Redwoods in Northern California; the images show overlapping trees, no spots of brown or ground, and she thinks that will be her best bet. There’s no second chances here. She has to get it right the first time. 

It’s over thirteen hours to drive to the Redwoods, so she gets a flight instead. One leaving tonight. 

She doesn’t tell her dad or Wallace. She doesn’t want them to try talking her out of it. Doesn’t want them to try anything desperate to stop her. Doesn’t want to see their pity when their pleading doesn’t work. 

Mac hugs her goodbye, tells her good luck, whispers encouragement. Veronica soaks it in, saves the offered strength for later when she knows she’ll need it. Pony is safe with Mac.

She leaves her phone at home.

The flight is quick and soon she's off renting a car and finding a motel to crash in for the night. She doesn’t sleep at all, spending her time pouring over the written instructions Mac gave her. Memorizing every word to ensure she does everything exactly as described. She’ll be hiking in the morning and doesn’t want to take time to stop and double check she’s following the instructions.

The sun is creeping above the trees, casting a pink and yellow and green glow over the road as she drives out to the park entrance. She pays the fee, paying extra to get a pass through the weekend. The car will be here when she gets back with Logan. They’ll have a way home. 

Though the sun lights the sky, the forest is still dark as she parks and double checks her bag for supplies. She’ll be walking all day and there won’t be time to come back. There won’t be time to return if she’s forgotten something essential. The feel of Logan’s lighter in the front pocket of her jeans reassures her that she has the important things. She straps a compass to her wrist like a watch and sets off on the path.

The pathway is springy and the air is musty; the sun hasn’t had a chance to burn off the mist of the night. She sticks to the path for a while, wanting to ensure she knows how to get back once she’s collected Logan. It wouldn’t do for them to end up dying, lost in the woods, just when she got him back.

Her growling stomach is the first indication that the morning has come and gone. A felled log on the side of the road makes a good bench and Veronica lets herself rest a moment and eat. Running on adrenaline and determination will only get her so far; she needs actual fuel, too. She doesn’t taste the food as she scarfs it down.

After she stops for lunch, she decides it’s time to break from the path. She uses the compass and map to maintain a straight direction, ensuring she knows how to get back to the path once she’s collected Logan. She sets off again, confident in her plan. 

After a few minutes, she notices her feet are sore. The sides of her feet and her heels are developing blisters. The constant rubbing of new boots, even expensive ones, is taking a toll. She might come to regret it, but for now she doesn’t care. It’s easy to ignore the twinge of pain when she knows who it’s for. 

By the time the sun starts sinking in the sky, it’s not just her feet that are sore. Muscles she didn’t know existed scream their protest of her continued movement. She ignores the strain. The instructions are clear: walk until the sun goes down. 

It’s another two hours of stumbling, course correcting, teeth grinding persistence before it gets too dark to see. A moment of panic overtakes her before she calms herself. She knows the instructions by heart. She knows what she needs to do. 

Steeling herself, praying this isn’t a sick joke she wasted days on, she looks to her left. For a moment, she sees nothing. Then, relief floods her. There it is, just like the instructions said: a white glow in the distance. 

She musters the last of her strength and walks towards it. 

These woods are tricky. Three times she stumbles, but she refuses to fall. Nothing will stop her now. She slows her walk, steps more carefully, and continues towards the light. 

While she walks, she keeps Logan’s name at the forefront of her mind; just like the instructions say. She speaks aloud how much she misses him. She misses his smile, his smell, his touch. She misses the way he calms her, the way he grounds her. She misses his jokes and his quips and his quotes. She speaks it all aloud.

And she says why she wants him back. She wants to see him surf again. She wants to wake up in his arms. She wants to laugh and joke and cry together. She wants him back to share their life together; the life they almost got to have. 

The light gets closer with each word she utters. Another step, another piece of herself she offers. She reaches the light and it goes out, as she knew it would. She digs the flashlight out her back and turns it on, resisting the urge to scan the forest for threats.

The instructions say if you reach this point, the forest accepts you, is on your side, will protect you. The instructions say to sleep, knowing you’ll be safe. Veronica sits on the ground, placing the flashlight next to her. She cannot sleep when she’s at home in bed, she doesn’t think she’ll sleep here either. But she lays her head on the damp moss and tries anyway. 

The forest must have lulled her because she wakes the next morning to a green glow indicating a bright sun behind the canopy of trees. The light of day shows her she found her way to a clearing, a much bigger clearing than she expected this far in a dense forest.

Her whole body protests as she struggles to her feet. Taking a moment to stretch out each tender muscle, she catalogues where she hurts and how much. Nothing is sore enough to stop her. 

She stows away the flashlight. She’ll need it again later. 

She spies the blood red caps of a common mushroom to her left. The moss around the fungi is a richer, darker shade of green than the rest of the clearing. It’s the fairy ring she’s been seeking.

She stays outside the ring while she gets the rest of her food and water from her pack and places it in front of the circle, setting a small amount aside for her breakfast this morning. Her stomach churns and her heart hammers. She isn’t sure she can eat anything, though she knows she needs to. 

Strange energy buzzes through her, making her movements shaky and rushed. She needs to slow and calm down. Any mistakes and her whole trip will be for nothing. She needs deliberate focus, not anticipation driven sloppiness. 

Eating the small portion she set aside, she runs through what’s left of her journey. There’s so much to the instructions, so much to remember. Running through it again calms her racing thoughts and pounding heart. By the time she finishes her meal, she feels prepared. 

Leaving the rest of the food on the ground, she gets to her feet and fishes a quarter out of the side pocket of her bag. This is it, the moment of truth. She steps carefully into the ring and places the quarter on the ground in front of her, tails side up. 

Sucking in a steadying breath, she calls out, “I’m coming Logan. I’m going to bring you home, I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably tell, this story is entirely unfinished. I am going to turn it into a multi-chapter fic, probably starting after the New Year so I can focus on the Christmas Exchange. I hope you enjoyed it, regardless of the unresolved ending here. I promise Logan will be saved!
> 
> Also, this is my last contribution to the series, so I wanted to say thank you so much to the lovely ladies who invited me in and helped encourage me through the stories. You guys are amazing and I'm so grateful for the opportunity to be a part of this journey. <3 You guys are the best.


	32. The One Where Logan Loses His Clothes by cattyk8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a fusion than a crossover, meaning worldbuilding of one fandom (in this case, the short-lived TV show _Forever_) is applied to the world and characters of another (Veronica Mars). In _Forever_, the main character cannot die; instead, at the moment of death, his life flashes before his eyes and then he inexplicably is displaced and finds himself in the nearest body of water, stark naked.
> 
> Also, some surfer slang:  
• Quimby: inexperienced, annoying surfer  
• Bail or Bail out: Jump off the surfboard to avoid a wipeout
> 
> **TW: As you may have gathered from the information above, this fic features major (if temporary) character death.**

He thinks he hears her shout his name.

Like a flower to the sun, his body starts to turn back toward the apartment, toward her. Toward home. But then the world erupts into heat and light, and he doesn’t have the time to breathe, much less curse, before his life is flashing before his eyes and everything goes silent.

For a moment, at least.

And then his eyes snap open. He realizes he’s just _died_. Of course.

He’s in the ocean, about twelve, fifteen feet down. Of course.

He’s naked. Of course.

Because his timing always did suck nasty, hairy balls. Of course.

He would curse, if he didn’t want to chance drowning. Dying, again, would be a bitch.

So instead he kicks his legs, forces his arms into well-practiced strokes, and heads for the surface. He breaks it and takes a deep breath of not-quite-warm-but-getting-there California air.

Another breath, and he looks around. He’s not far from home, having surfaced just off the shore from the beach across from their apartment, only a couple blocks north of their actual frontage.

“Hey, Quimby, get out of the way!” someone yells from behind him.

Logan dives quickly and narrowly misses getting brained by a surfboard. After a moment, he surfaces again, and he sees a familiar blonde surfer paddling his way. “Dick? What are you doing here?”

“Trying not to think about the fact that my dad got _pfft_!” His best friend makes a slashing motion across his throat. “And since we’re talking about it, dude, what the fuck? I almost killed you! You could be fucking dead right now!”

_You have no idea_, Logan thinks. But he is reminded of the fact that he _did_ just die. And he realizes Veronica, his _wife_, is probably out of her mind right now.

So he does what his training has taught him, shoves his shock and bemusement aside in favor of assessing the situation and determining his immediate goals. First: get back to Veronica. Next—

“Logan. Dude. Are you okay?” Dick is looking at him with a combination of confusion and concern. Then, “Are you _naked_?”

Okay, first: get some clothes. Next: get back to Veronica. “Yeah,” he says with a grimace. “Had to bail so I wouldn’t wipe out, then caught a riptide. Thought I was a goner for a while, but managed to get back. Unfortunately, I seem to have lost my board. And my shorts. Any chance you can help a guy out? I’ve got to get back to Veronica.”

“Yeah, bet Ronnie’s pissed you went surfing right after getting hitched. I’ve got a spare pair of board shorts in my truck.” Dick stares at him for a moment, then gets off his board. “Here, take my board. I’ll swim back and get you some threads so you don’t bare your ass to half of Neptune. Told ya those little blue trunks you wear would get you in deep shit one day.” He huffs out a laugh.

“Thanks, man.” Logan is grateful not just for the promise of clothing, but the fact that Dick Casablancas isn’t really big on questioning the whys and wherefores of life. Like why his friend has turned up stark naked in the ocean on his wedding day with a cock-and-bull story about bailing out when they both know Logan’s never had a problem surfing of any of Neptune’s beaches in the entire time he’s lived here.

Dick unstraps the safety cord from his ankle (and thankfully doesn’t ask why Logan’s board wasn’t similarly leashed, if he’d really been surfing) and tells him, “I’ll be right back.”

Logan clings to the board and uses his friend’s departure to regroup. It’s an insane bit of luck that the surfer who nearly ran him over is none other than his best friend, and that Dick seems to have bought the story he came up with on the fly. He knows he hasn’t a hope of coming up with a story that the other blonde in his life won’t poke a million holes through.

But, really, what is he supposed to tell her? _Yes, the bomb blew up, and I died, but I didn’t stay dead. Instead I woke up naked in the ocean._ It might be the truth, but Logan suspects she’d ask him if he needs to see his psychiatrist to get his meds adjusted before they leave for their honeymoon. Or maybe just have him committed.

He makes a face. This is, what? His eighth death now? His first had been back in college, during the worst of his dark period. He’d overdosed on drugs and alcohol and awoken just off a beach not unlike this one. At the time, he’d believed he’d jumped naked into the water while drunk and high. It was only later, when his plane had taken a hit while on a mission and he’d died as it crashed into the Persian Gulf, only to wake up within swimming distance of the port of Dammam, that he’d realized he’d first died in college.

The Navy had clued in after his fourth death. He’d been transported to a hush-hush facility and had submitted to a gamut of tests conducted by doctors and scientists who’d tried to find out the reason he couldn’t seem to die. He’d had his fifth and sixth deaths under their “care,” and hadn’t that been a barrel of laughs? And he still didn’t have any answers.

But then an admiral with more ribbons on his chest than Logan had ever seen on a single person had walked in and claimed him for Naval Intelligence. And the temporary nature of his mortality had become a state secret.

Well. He’s known he would have to tell Veronica about it sometime. And now that they’re legally married, it’ll give him more of a leg to stand on if he’s questioned about why he’s read her in. Exigent circumstances would probably cover the rest; it’s not like he’d planned to be blown up by a psychotic pizza guy—he’s realized the bomb could only have been a parting gift from Penn Epner.

Logan’s problem now is how to tell his brand-new wife that (1) he’s kept a secret from her basically their entire adult relationship, and (2) there’s a distinct possibility that the whole “growing old and dying with you” part won’t actually be possible in their marriage, at least on his end.

Then of course, there’s the whole getting-her-to-believe-him thing, although he supposes he could just stab himself in the heart after extracting her promise to deliver some clothes to him back here. Or something similarly dramatic. Veronica has always worked best with proof-by-demonstration.

“Dude, have you frozen your nuts off yet?”

Dick’s voice (and splashing as he approaches) breaks Logan out of his reverie, and he realizes that, yes, he actually _is_ freaking freezing. “Yeah,” he said. “Got shorts for me so I can get out of here without getting arrested for public indecency?”

His friend laughs. “Yeah, dude. I gotcha.” Dick tosses a sodden pair of boardshorts his way, and Logan quickly slips them on.

“Thanks, man. Really. I owe you one.”

“No problemo.”

The two men make their way back to shore, and Dick offers him a spare T-shirt and a ride home, even if it’s only a couple blocks off. When Dick pulls up near Logan’s and Veronica’s apartment, he stares at the ambulance and police cars parked along the road.

“Dude, did something happen?”

“I’m gonna find out. I’ll call you later,” Logan said, getting out of the car.

“Want me to go in with you? Check on Ronnie?”

“No, I’ll take care of it.” Logan pauses, then leans toward the window. “Listen, if anyone asks, do you mind telling them we needed some one-on-one time and went to catch some waves?”

Dick frowns. “Is this gonna be like when Lilly—”

“No,” Logan says hastily. “Just, I’m doing some stuff for work. You know, top secret and stuff.”

“Ah, gotcha, Jason Bourne.” The blond winks. “All righty then, if that’s all, I’m gonna make like a moose and vamoose. Got, ya know, people to see, dads to bury. You guys have a good honeymoon.”

He’s not sure he likes the flippancy in Dick’s tone. He recognizes it from the almost manic jolliness his friend exhibited their first year of college, after Cassidy Casablancas had jumped off the roof of the Neptune Grand. “Hey, man, honeymoon or not, call me if you wanna talk, okay?”

“Dude, come on, I’m not gonna do that to you and Ronnie. You finally tied the knot! You’ve been waiting for this since, like, junior year high school!”

Logan refuses to let his friend deflect. “Be that as it may, promise me you’ll call if it gets bad.”

“Fine, whatever.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise, okay? You want me to pinky swear? Braid you a friendship bracelet?”

“Nah. I just want you to call.”

“Ugh. Go home to your wife, dude. I’m outta here.”

Logan rolls his eyes, but Dick just waves cheerfully and backs out, then drives off. He heads toward the crime scene, where he’s barred from going any further by one of the officers. He adopts the bearing he uses at work and says, “This is my apartment. I need to see my wife. We just got married today.”

The officer—not one he recognizes—frowns. “Your wife? What’s your name?”

“Yes. Veronica Mars. My name is Logan Echolls. Lt. Logan Echolls, Naval Intelligence.”

The guy gapes at him. “You’re dead. Or that’s what the report says. You blew up.”

Inwardly, Logan cringes, knowing that’s the God’s honest truth. But he’s an old hand at lying about his deaths by now. “Clearly not. I went surfing.” He indicates his still-wet board shorts. “I’d offer ID, but I don’t have any on me.”

“Your wife says you were in the car when it blew.”

“I wasn’t. I was supposed to move it, but a friend came by and needed to talk, so we went out to the beach and caught a couple waves.” He easily shunts his best friend in as his alibi; after all, as Dick pointed out, it was hardly the first time. The blond surfer had decided to lie to the cops about him being in Mexico at the time of Lilly’s murder all those years ago. He puts a little urgency, a little desperation, in his voice. “Please, I need to see my wife. I need to see she’s okay.” He makes a show of making wide eyes at the wreckage of Veronica’s car.

The officer nods and lifts the crime scene tape. “Go directly to the door, and don’t touch anything.”

But Logan is already striding up the stairs and into his home. The door is wide open, and Veronica is sitting on the couch between Keith and another man—is that Leo? It sure as hell isn’t Wallace—and the three of them are talking quietly. The guy beside Veronica rubs her back in soothing circles.

So it’ll be easy for Logan to say later that his voice was hoarse and not growly when he utters her name. “Veronica.”

All three people on the couch stand up and spin around so fast, it’s a wonder they don’t give themselves whiplash. Son of a bitch. It _is_ Leo freaking D’Amato. But even as that registers in Logan’s brain, his attention has already snapped to Veronica’s face. Her tear-drenched eyes, her trembling lips. “Logan?” she whispers. “Y-you’re dead. I heard—I heard the bomb go off. You were—”

She brings a tightly clenched fist to her lips, eyes wide, round, haunted.

“I’m okay,” he says. “I wasn’t in the car.” Which is true enough. He has no desire to explain what really happened in front of an audience. Well, maybe Keith might be okay. But not Deputy Leo—and no, Logan doesn’t care that the sneaky little jerkface is with the FBI now.

So he steps forward, and suddenly Veronica is running up to him. He reaches for her even as she leaps at him, wrapping her arms and legs around him. “You’re real. You’re alive. You’re _here_,” she whispers over and over again.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m here.”

After several long moments, she draws her head back enough so she can look in his eyes. “How?” she asks.

“I’ll explain later,” he says, voice low, mouth closed, lips against hers. He kisses her thoroughly, then pulls back. Pitching his voice so it carries to the others in the room, he continues. “Dick came by, needed to talk. I left you a note on the car window that I’d be back in 30 minutes, an hour at most. We went out to the beach, caught a couple waves. I wiped out, and Dick dropped me off. That’s when I saw the cop cars.”

She frowns, eyes sharp, questioning. He meets her gaze, hoping she’ll read the plea in it. She gives him the barest of nods, mouths _later_.

In the meantime, Keith has helpfully explained to Leo that Dick is Dick Casablancas, and that the poor boy’s father had been murdered just that week. Then Veronica’s dad is suddenly right beside them. “You gave us a scare, son,” he says, clapping a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Next time, call or text instead of leaving a note, will you? There’s a reason we live in the 21st century.”

Logan grimaces. “I will. Sorry I worried you.”

His father-in-law shakes his head. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”

“Thanks, Keith.”

“I’m gonna need your statement,” Deputy Leo says snidely. “Seems like a shitty thing to do, leaving your wife to go surfing on your wedding day.”

Logan opens his mouth to reply, but surprisingly, Veronica glares at the other man. “We weren’t leaving for a couple hours,” she says, and damned if his wife isn’t hot when she’s lying to a federal agent. “Dick is his best friend—and Logan’s like the guy’s only friend, and like my dad said, he just lost his only family yesterday. I was gonna call my dad and Wallace before we left. I don’t see how this is any different. I guess his note got blown—got blown up with the car.” Her voice falters at that last bit, her expression crumpling as her eyes fill with tears.

Leo frowns. “I thought you said you were talking to him just moments before the car blew up.”

“I guess I was wrong, wasn’t I? The blast knocked me several feet back. I must’ve been in shock. I didn’t _see_ him get into the car. I just assumed he had.” Those tears must have frozen, because Veronica’s voice is arctic. “Now if it’s all the same to you, I’d like some time alone with my husband. My very alive husband, as you can see.”

“All right, honey,” Keith says immediately, tiptoeing to kiss her cheek since she was still wrapped around Logan like a vine on a tree. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Logan says. “Thanks, Keith.”

“Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetie,” Keith says, then after another fatherly clap on Logan’s shoulder, he heads for the door. “Come on, D’Amato.”

“I still need that statement,” Leo says. “From both of you.”

“We’ll come down to the station.” Logan uses a tone he normally reserves for giving orders to stubborn junior officers. “_Later_.” He meets Leo stare for stare.

“Fine,” the man huffs, then is (finally) gone.

Now it’s just Logan and Veronica left in the room. He opens his mouth, but he’s not really sure what he’s going to say. But then her lips are on his, and she’s kissing him like, well, like he died and came back to her. He kisses her back, pouring all reassurance and apology into it. More by memory than by sight, he walks them over to the couch, careful to avoid the heap of broken glass shards from the blown-out back windows someone—probably Keith—has helpfully swept into a pile , then sits down with her still in his arms.

Later, much later, they pull apart, breathing hard. She stares at his face as if memorizing it, then closes her eyes, leans her forehead against his, and gives a little shudder before pulling back to stare at him again.

“Now,” she murmurs, “tell me how you’re alive. I _know_ what happened, and Dick Casablancas didn’t come over wanting to talk.”

Logan holds her gaze. “No,” he says slowly. “He didn’t.” He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “What I have to tell you about what happened… Veronica, it’s not going to be easy to believe. And it’s top secret.”

“I don’t care.”

He frowns. “What?”

“I don’t care.” Two small hands frame his face; blue eyes rimmed with red hold his own. “I don’t care if it’s hard to believe. I’ll believe it because you’re here, and because it’s you. And I don’t care if it’s top secret. I’m not telling anyone anything, as long as I get to keep you.”

The steadiness of her gaze, the set of her lips, the slight trembling of her fingers—all these things tell him how serious she is. For once, all her walls are down, and Logan has to take a moment to wonder at the love and fear and worry all but radiating from her.

If he hadn’t already decided to tell her everything, she, in this moment, would convince him to do so. He cannot but bare his soul to her.

“First of all,” he says slowly, “you need to know I’m not going anywhere.”

She breathes out a sigh. Lets one side of her mouth quirk up. “You bet your ass you’re not, Echolls.”

“It’s Mars now, or once the paperwork goes through,” he reminds her.

“Yeah, yeah. Now start talking, mister.”

“All right.” He figures the best way forward is by giving her the facts. “The truth is, I don’t think I can die.”


	33. The One Where Veronica is a Good P.I. by KMD0107

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer upfront - this was mostly written within the confines of canon. Trying to make this plot and its timing make sense was...difficult. To quote Irma, "RT doesn’t believe in limiting himself with calendars or clocks." 
> 
> This is my last one in the collection - I hope you all enjoy it :)

"You seem different today, Veronica," Dad says as he takes a seat at the table.

I kiss the top of Dad’s head and then slide into the seat beside him. There’s no telling what Penn called us down to the station to discuss, but it is giving me a little more time to hold my big news in. “Just woke up on the right side of the bed, I guess.” Holding off on telling him about the wedding feels both wrong and like a comfortable sweater. There is definitely something to Logan’s suggestion to seek therapy.

“About last night, I should have…” He stops and shakes his head. “This is my last case in the field. After we wrap this up, we’ll start talking about what it will mean for me to step back.”

Before I get a chance to protest, the door clanks open, and I take a deep breath as an officer settles Penn at the table. I'd rather be home, celebrating with Logan and Pony, and ignoring Dad's imminent retirement, but this is the job, a part of the life I chose when I came back.

I square my shoulders and turn to Penn. “What do you want?”

“Isn't it obvious? I want to hire you two to prove my innocence.”

I take in Penn, he’s leaning forward into the table, his features animated. He’s excited. Excited that we’re here. Practically frothing at the mouth. His reaction sets me on edge, that sense that someone who could blow people up exists below the doofus veneer.

“Penn. You're here because of us,” I tell him, and wait for a reaction.

“And I forgive you,” he says, the epitome of amiable. The man who called my Dad a clown, who I’m almost certain killed at least three people, and he looks completely harmless. But, you know who else looked harmless? Cassidy Casablancas. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice…

“No," I say, that extra sense I have warming up to the situation. I turn to Dad, who has remained uncharacteristically quiet since Penn was brought in, and he nods. Dad's handed over the reins; he really is going to step down. I have so many feelings about this that I want to jump out of my skin. All the happiness I've felt since I told Logan yes, is being eaten away by the cold reality that I'm losing my Dad. We both stand and start heading for the door.

I’m halfway out the door when Penn yells, “Wait, wait, wait! Guys, guys! I am not the bomber. And it doesn't matter how this accusation makes me feel personally, the fact is, there's still a bomb out there set to go off in twenty-four hours. And when it does, and more innocent people get killed, you're gonna wish you had listened to me.”  
  
His sincerity is just this side of creepy, and it sends a chill up my spine.

“What do you want, money? I'll pay double your rate. I'll triple it.”

Money speaks, and for some reason, Penn seems to have it. But a weighty sense of dread is settling in the pit of my stomach. I shake my head and say, "Yeah, it's less of a money thing and more of a ‘we think you're the Neptune Bomber’ thing.”

“Okay, the irony isn't lost on me that you two are the reason I'm here. But you're also the two most qualified people to prove my innocence. Vanity Fair called you ‘whip-smart.’ ‘The preternaturally gifted Veronica Mars,’ they said. Want to get this one right, too, don't you?”

“I was thinking we already had,” I say, trying not to be flattered by him quoting that damn article, and failing.

“I'm tellin' the truth. You get to save lives. And if I'm guilty, which I'm obviously not, you get a little bit of extra money, and then you sleep with a clear conscience.”

He's babbling, and it's really off-putting, but maybe my overwhelmed psyche is misreading the situation. I turn to look at Dad, he's wearing his stern face, but there are beads of sweat dotting his bare brow, and the grip on his cane is white-knuckled. He's in no better an emotional state than I am.

"If we did this, where would you want us to start?" I ask, trying to buy myself some time to get a grip. I can't make another wrong decision; I need to get this one right.

“Follow the nails, Mars.”

I let him preen, let him feel in charge, I need him to make a mistake, not me. So, I settle back into the chair opposite Penn and sense Dad step up behind me. What I wouldn’t give for a little telepathy right about now. But I’ll take the united front we present.

“Follow them where?” I ask.

Penn sighs dramatically. “To the bomber, duh! We’ve talked about it a lot at the Murderhead meetings, you could start with them.”

“Then why hire us? Trade on the info you have with Chief Langdon,” Dad says, taking the seat next to me.

“Those twats! They won’t solve this.”

“But you want us to solve it?” Dad asks, skepticism lacing his words.

“Not you two ‘us’ I want _us_—" he traces a circle in the air, including all of us in the room "—to solve it."

“Why?” I ask. He’s getting to me; I can feel the urge to believe him, even as my internal alarms continue to sound. What if I’m wrong?

“My memoir!”

So he’s planning to write a book. It’s not a bad gig if you can get it. Dad’s book eventually got him the money he needed to buy his little bungalow.

“You know what I don’t get, if you can afford to pay triple our rate, why work as a delivery guy?” I ask.

“All the hot chicks?” Dad says with a shrug. A little banter with Dad feels like solid ground again. It's a short reprieve from the rollercoaster I've been on since this meeting started. Up and down, back and forth.

“It keeps me busy, and you hear things," Penn says, crossing his arms.

"Uh-huh, the amateur sleuth in the zeitgeist, I remember. Dad, I'm thinking, our next stop is to drop in on those squirrely frat boys.”

“The fr—The frat boys, are you kidding?! No! The nails! Follow the nails! Murderheads, hospital, police. That's your arena!”

That manic excitement is back. Penn is trying to look upset, but he's almost vibrating with excitement. The door opens, our time’s up, but I have more questions.

I shake my head. “No, there’s something else going on here. I’m not sure what it is yet, but for now, I think you need to just cool your jets while we go talk to some frat brothers. Unless you want to come clean.”

Penn's features settle into a scowl as he crosses his arms, closes off. I keep watching him, waiting for that moment, something. I can almost feel it in the air as Penn stretches his brain, trying to find that thing that will keep me on his side. And if I'm lucky, it'll be his downfall. He wants me to know, wants us all to know. I've seen that look before, stared it down, and waited for it to try to kill me. Before this is all over, I know this little man will try to kill me too. That tingle I earned more than once staring down killers, I can feel it now, setting my teeth on edge. It’s time to go digging.

* * *

I follow Dad into the same meeting room from the day before. It feels a bit like_ déjà vu_. I still haven't told him about the wedding, and I still feel like a terrible person, an imposter in my own life. I glance down at my watch, six hours to go until I'm supposed to meet Logan at the courthouse. It would be ideal if Dad had more than a few minutes notice, but like I told Logan this morning, I need Dad focused, so I put it off a little longer.

"You ready for this?" Dad asks as we find our seats.

“I feel like I’m chasing my tail. We've got these weird bits of information, but none of it seems like enough to do anything with. How does abuse by dumbshit, Hearst frat boys during Pledge week, a Fall semester activity,” I remind Dad, “connect to attacking Spring Breakers three years later?”

“I don't know, Honey. The human condition is unpredictable. It could be as simple as this was an opportunity. Big Dick bombs the Sea Sprite, and Penn uses it as cover for his own desires. Sometimes we never find out 'why.' This is the PI life, it’s not too late—”

“—To change my mind, take the Bar. I know, Dad, I know.” I’m trying to think what else to say when an officer brings Penn in.

He settles into the chair and turns a friendly smile to us. “Hey, that was quick. What's the good news?” Penn asks.

I can almost feel the self-satisfaction oozing off of him. It goes against my better judgment to be here talking to him before we know for sure about the order ticket. Still, there are thousands for Matty to sort through, and I feel like just maybe we can catch him in a lie or get an admission about the frat boys. Then we'd have something to give to Chief Langdon so they can hold Penn longer, or hopefully, charge him.

“Well, we figured out why you didn't want us to go back and talk to the frat boys,” I say, leaning over the table, invading his space.

“Yeah, 'cause it's a waste of time.” His eyes harden, and I see a hint of the monster that lurks on the surface. Murderhead, my ass, more like murderer.

I stay leaning forward, eye-to-eye, watching for a tic, a tell, anything that I can exploit, and begin my story. “I'll refresh your memory. Three years ago, you deliver a pizza to a fraternity beach party. But you screw up the order. The dissatisfied customers throw you into the ocean. They're animals, like all the Spring Breakers you deliver to. You survive, barely. You want revenge," I say, pausing for drama, and a reaction. I notice a bead of sweat on his brow. Despite his reasonably convincing look of confusion, he knows this story, I'm sure of it.

He looks to my Dad, hoping to find comradery from the looks of it, and says, "I-I literally have no idea what you're talking about.”

I take a quick glance; cop-face and unconvinced eyes stare back at Penn from my Dad. The bead of sweat runs down Penn's temple. So, I continue, “You swing back by after your shift and set a tent on fire, killing one of the Pi Sigs who tormented you.”

“Th- Okay, this is insane.” He squirms, and his cuffs clang against his chair. “You know that, right?”

“One of the surviving frat boys already described you. ‘Looks like a hobbit. Kind of a dipshit.’ Hey, that rhymes. You love that crap," I say, hoping to get another rise out of him, hoping he'll slip and say something we can use.

“So now you're just flat-out insulting me,” he says, throwing his hands in the air. I see his lips moving and just hear him mumble, “hobbit doesn’t rhyme with dipshit.”

I lean back. It’s not a _good_ rhyme, that was kind of the point. But why is that what’s bothering Penn? “I just called you a dipshit and said I think you look like a hobbit, but you’re upset I implied you would like that rhyme?”

“Look, I pride myself on my communication skills. You’ve seen my tweets.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say, non-committal.

"You could maybe use hobbit and dipshit as third- and fourth-line rhymes, but it sounds stupid.”

I’m ready to reply that sounding stupid was sort of his thing, but Dad’s phone rings.

He discretely turns the screen toward me, it’s Matty.

“What have you got?” He pauses; Matty’s voice is muffled and not quite audible. “The driver's name is listed top right. What's it say?”

So, she found the needle in the haystack. Or, well, I guess, more like the correct piece of hay in the haystack. Even under pressure, I amuse myself. It also makes me think of Logan. He’d dig that one; I’ll have to be sure to tell him later.

“You're sure?” Dad asks, drawing my attention back. I can just hear her say, “_Yeah_.” Dad replies, “Thanks, Matty,” and turn back to Penn and me. “She found the ticket. Penn didn't deliver that pizza.”

“Well, well, well,” Penn says, and I realize I stopped watching his reactions. But like so many of his responses throughout this whole debacle, it feels off, not like what someone hoping you’ll help them would say.

I put my hand on Dad's shoulder, stopping him from relaying whatever else Matty has told him. We need to regroup. I've got the tingle again. This guy keeps pulling me in, but experience is the fire that forged me, and I can't—no, won't—ignore it.

“Dad, can I have a word?” I say, tilting my head toward the door.

“Excuse us, Penn, we’ll be right back.” Penn starts to comment, but Dad holds up his hand. “Just be a moment. Want us to grab you something from the vending machines? I could sure use a soda.”

Penn grunts his assent, mumbles something that sounds like M&M's and leans his head back to stare at the ceiling tiles. There are more mumbles, but I can't make out the words. I don’t like him having time to think up more lies, but I _need_ to know what else Matty said before Penn knows.

I step out into the hallway and wait for Dad to catch up to me. He's moving slow. We've been going since early this morning, and he's probably due for more pain pills, but I need his mind clear, crisp…or as close to what passes for those things these days. I've spent the last year ignoring and dismissing Dad's health issues, and now the well I've been filling with my guilt feels ready to spill over, but I don't have time for that now. _You’ve never had time for it, Veronica…_

I push it down; self-flagellation is scheduled for tomorrow. Today, I’ve got other plans.

We walk together toward the vending machines, and I ask, "What did Matty find?"

“The ticket says Don, not Penn.”

I try it out, “Don…” and it hits me, “one of the Murderheads is named Don.”

Dad looks at me, perplexed. “Remember? _Murderheads_, Penn’s little detective group—” He nods, neurons firing back up. “—He was vaguely hobbit shaped, and definitely a dipshit.”

“But is he our dipshit? Veronica, I’m not sure I should be here. I’m afr—”

“No, I need you with me, even if you’re not at 100%,” I say, interrupting him.

“Honey, I’m not sure I’m at even 50%.”

It feels like the day before; I’ve really fucked this up, but we’re in too deep, I can’t seem to shake my investment in this case. I want to say it’s because of Matty, some kind of faux-maternal instinct rearing its head, but I know that isn’t it. I want to solve this. I _need_ to be better than Neptune PD, better than the FBI. I want all those things Vanity Fair said about me to be true. Instead of the fact that I'm turning into an even more closed off, self-absorbed bitch than I thought was possible.

“What if we walk away?” I ask.

“Then I would assume Penn won’t pay us and—”

“Screw the money.”

“—there’s still a bomb out there.”

“Oh right, that… hey, hang on a second. Something's been nagging at me." I try to let the pieces come together, that tingle I keep getting. I can't quite grab hold of it, but something about our earlier meeting with Penn is gnawing at me. "Penn talked us into helping him by reminding us that there was a bomb set to go off in twenty-four hours."

“He did?” His face takes on that slight slackness I’m starting to realize has been happening for a while, then his eyebrows pop. “He did. What of it?”

I take a deep breath and push down my entirely too late and terribly timed concern for my father's health, and ask, “How did he know? Did you tell him? Because_ I_ didn’t.”

Dad leans against the wall, and I start looking for a place we can sit. The desk Leo has been using is empty, so I guide him toward it. Dad takes a seat and rubs at his temples, shaking his head.

“No, I didn’t. But Honey, Cliff knew too. Maybe he told Penn?”

“How did Cliff know? I’m sure it wasn’t public knowledge and even Marcia—”

An irritated voice breaks in. "Even Marcia, what?"

Just great, speak of the Devil. “Shit,” I say under my breath.

“Chief Langdon. You know my daughter and I were just wondering—” Dad says, ever the diplomat, at least until he isn’t.

“I’ll bet,” she says, skepticism evident, and annoyance on full display. “What are you doing in my station?”

“We’re working for Mr. Epner. And actually, we have some information you should know, but maybe you can indulge us. Is there any reason Mr. Epner, or his attorney, Mr. McCormick, would know the limerick?”

She stares back at us, no longer pissed, but considering, and shakes her head. “No, it wasn’t made public. So, unless you told them, against my express orders, no, they should not have known.”

Dad turns to me, serious but excited; a glimmer of how I see him in my head appears. “We need to call Cliff.”

“No, you need to tell me what you know,” Marcia says, resting her hip against the desk and crossing her arms.

“Well, _Chief_ Langdon, I think your suspect knows more than he should about that limerick. But there is one problem, the connection we found to a motive may suggest a different bomber.”

“How so?” she asks.

I explain what we found out from the fraternity brother, and her expression darkens. “I remember that. It was ruled an accident. None of them mentioned anything about drowning a pizza boy…” she pauses, shakes her head, “um, pizza person? Whatever.”

Dad picks up the story, “We sent one of our employees to Cho’s, she found the delivery ticket, it lists someone named Don.”

“We think it could possibly be a member of Penn’s mystery fan group, but we haven’t had a chance to ask him.”

“Good. I have a few more hours before we have to release Mr. Epner. Let's get your employee here. We need a statement about what she found, and we're going to need to send officers down to Cho's to collect the evidence," Marcia says, full of authority and purpose. It’s a good look for her and reminds me of when I voted her into office for her first term.

Dad pulls his cell phone back out and calls Matty back on speakerphone. The call connects, and Dad says, "Hi, Matty, we have a couple of ques—"

“_EAT ME!”_ comes through the phone and a honking horn.

“Matty, it’s Keith. I’m here with Veronica and Chief Langdon.”

“_Um…hi, everyone. Let me in! How hard is that?!_” Matty says and honks the horn again. “_I’m super late for this thing at Kane High, and the other drivers don’t seem to care. Did you need something?_”

“Yeah, can you tell me again about the delivery ticket you found, Chief Langdon wants to hear it from you,” Dad says, and makes eye contact with Marcia, who nods. It looks like Matty gets to go to Kane High before coming down to the station.

“_Sure. So in the fourth box, I found the ticket with the right date and time for the delivery that frat boy told you about—" _

That rankles, there were hundreds of boxes in the storage room. I turn to Dad and Marcia. “What are the odds of a three-year-old ticket book being in one of the easier to access boxes?”

“_That seemed weird to me too. I was actually getting ready to call you when this asshat cut me off. So I kept going through those pizza tickets. The one I found that said Don was number 6-0-1-5-4. Every other ticket in that bundle was in the eight thousands. And the rest of the bundles in that box were from that same year, but a different month. Seemed weird."_

I can feel my heart starting to pound, adrenaline kicking in, the excitement of getting close to the answer is beginning to take me.

“That is weird,” Dad says, and Marcia starts to speak, “Matty, I think we—"

“_Gets weirder_,” Matty interrupts. “_There's one missing carbon from the eight thousands, and the one before it was an order at 11:29 PM. The one after it went out at 11:47 PM. Somebody tore out the original carbon.”_

“Penn?” I ask.

Dad nods. “Could be.”

Marcia leans into the phone and says, “Thank you, Matty. We’re going to need you to head here as soon as you’re done at the dedication. I need an official statement.”

“_You got it, Chief. Gotta go_.”

The 'call ended' messages flashes across Dad's phone, and the three of us stare at each other. This doesn't answer all of the questions, or really any of the questions. But it sure does look bad for Penn. "So, what now? This doesn't feel like enough to get him, and we're running out of time."

“You know the funny thing about evidence?” Marcia asks, her lips pulling into a Cheshire grin.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Takes a lot of it to convict someone, but only a little to charge them. Let’s get Mr. McCormick back down here and talk to Mr. Epner again, see if we can’t make him sweat..”

“What about the bomb? We’re running out of time. The Fiji reference seems too easy, are there any other major events happening today?” The words are barely out of my mouth when I realize the target. “Kane High Dedication, it has to be.”

“Shit!” Marcia says, and motions for her Lieutenant to join them. “Bob, call Jake Kane, and call in a favor; we need more bomb techs, try to keep it quiet. The target may be Kane High.”

"On it," Lieutenant Bob Sargent says, reaching for his phone, and moving away toward the closed-off office area.

“Marses, we’ve got work to do. Let’s show the FBI that Neptune can handle its own. Take five while we put the kibosh on the high school dedication and get Mr. Epner’s attorney and a DA. I think it’s time to make this arrest a little more official.”

“Thank you, Chief Langdon,” Dad says.

“And thank you, Keith, Veronica,” Marcia says and strides off.

I turn to Dad since no one’s going anywhere right now, it’s about time I came clean with him. "Hey, Dad, before Marcia comes back and we get too distracted, I’ve got some news."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone! This has been a blast to participate in with such a wonderful group of people :) I want to thank Irma, Ellie, and MKT for the idea and hosting this, and Irma for her betaing. These came together pretty slowly for me and she held my hand through getting them done. And a very special thank you to Jmazzy for the beautiful cover art she made, our cool playlist, and for being the best cheerleader in the fandom! We're very lucky to have you :)
> 
> And one more time, thank you to all of the readers and commenters. It makes us all so happy to see how much you are enjoying these. We've all been in a funk but doing this has helped me feel better, and I hope it has for you as well.


	34. The One With The Marriage License by Irma66

Veronica bursts through the doors of the County Clerk's office, looking frazzled and irritated. Her scowl deepens when her gaze falls on Logan seated with a female companion, but he sees the moment she registers who that companion is, as her expression morphs to shock.

"Parker?" she says incredulously as she nears the bench where Logan and Parker are seated. They've been 'catching up' while he waits for Veronica to make it across town, although mostly, Parker's been talking about what an ass she married. 

"Veronica Mars," Parker says with an amused smile. "I hear that your two-decade long courtship is coming to an end today. I would think that would be cause for a larger celebration than a quickie in a courthouse, but hey...that's just me."

Logan's eyes flick nervously between the women. He doesn't care about a big fancy to-do, but he was pretty sure Veronica was not going to appreciate Parker's critique of their last-minute wedding plans. Veronica's smile takes Logan by surprise as much as her words, "It’s a quickie in a courthouse _garden_, thank you very much. And I just couldn't wait another day to lock him down." Then he realizes the smile is humorless and she sounds entirely insincere. Parker seems as dubious about Veronica's response as he is based on the mocking timbre of her laugh.

"He's been locked down as long as I've known him," Parker responds, then stands and leans down to kiss Logan on the cheek. "Good luck," she says in a warmer tone, a good-natured smile on her face. "I'm hoping for the very best for you." She turns away and steps toward Veronica, clapping her hand on the shorter woman's shoulder. "Treat him like he deserves, Veronica," she adds, then she quickly walks out of the office. They both stare after her for a moment before Veronica whirls on Logan.

"What did you tell her?" Veronica demands. "She acted like...I don't even know what...like I was some kind of..." She gives a loud, angry huff. "Did you tell her I was jerking you around?"

Logan starts at her words. "Of course not. Why would I tell her that?"

She huffs again, then slumps down onto the bench beside him. "Probably because I have been." She looks up at him and the anger is gone. Instead, her eyes look sad. "I was a bitch about the ring...when you first came back. I'm sorry."

He drops his arm around her shoulders and she nestles into his side. "Veronica, I really didn't expect you to say yes. I just couldn't not ask anymore." He shrugs. "I started to think that maybe I was assuming things I shouldn't, and maybe you would say yes. But deep down, I knew I was probably kidding myself. So, when you did turn me down? I guess I was ready for it."

"You make it sound like I didn't actually need to run away afterwards."

"Yeah, that part I wasn't as ready for," he confesses. 

"I'm sorry," she repeats and he kisses the top of her head, then twists and tips her head up with a finger to her chin before dropping a gentle kiss on her lips. 

"Just don't change your mind," he says quietly and she shakes her head. 

"I won't." She stretches up to kiss him again, cupping his cheek with her hand. After a moment, he breaks the kiss, but stays close, resting his forehead against hers as they smile at each other. 

"So, if no one is changing their mind, I guess we better get in line." He stands, pulling her up with him.

"So why did you make me come down here? I thought you were picking up the license," she says as they move to the stand in the queue. There's only one couple ahead of them, already at the counter, as they wait as directed behind the white line.

"It's not my fault; apparently it's the law of this great State. Both parties must be present for the license to be issued. I did all the paperwork already; they just need to see you." He wraps a possessive arm around her and she does the same. "They probably want to make sure you're actually agreeable to the idea. Keep me from marrying you without your consent, ya know?"

She laughs, hiding her face against his chest. "Yikes."

"Next." The clerk's voice breaks into their conversation and they both freeze, staring at each other momentarily.

"Ready for this?" Logan asks, trying to keep his tone neutral. 

"Absolutely," she replies, and this time, she's the one who pulls him as they move to the counter. 

Several I.D. checks and signatures later, Logan is in possession of a marriage license, which he tucks carefully into the inside pocket of his jacket. It's not actually complete yet; their officiant will have to finish filling it out, then they will both sign, as will their witnesses, who it appears will be Wallace and Keith. Dick's still in Romania, and is probably a wreck right now, considering the news that Veronica just shared about his dad. Logan always pictured Dick standing up for him when he and Veronica finally married, but it's a minor point. Getting Wallace and Keith's stamps of approval on the marriage actually matters more to him. He's worked so hard to win them over during the last few years, and it seems he's finally done it—at least enough so that they're willing to sign off on this wedding.

"Okay, so, we both need to go home and get changed, right?" Logan asks. He's hoping that she's planning to dress up at least a little, although he knows he'd marry her in jeans and a tee shirt. Preferably with a leather jacket over that. He does enjoy that look on her. 

"Yeah. This wedding isn't going to be exactly traditional, but I thought a little bit of dress up was in order. I don't want to draw down any more bad juju than we already have by not looking like we’re serious about this." They reach Veronica's car and he waits beside the passenger door for her to click the locks. As they slide in, she says, "That no-seeing-the-bride thing was effectively ruined this morning when we had sex twice."

"I guess I should have closed my eyes, huh?" he teases, squeezing them tightly shut now in demonstration. She laughs and pokes his chest and he opens them wide, before fluttering his eyelashes at her. 

"Yeah, if anything goes wrong, I'm blaming you." 

As she starts the car and heads out of the parking lot, he says suggestively, "Maybe you should have blindfolded me?" 

"Ooh, yeah, and the handcuffs too." She grins over at him. "Be sure you pack all that stuff for the honeymoon." She looks away and taps the clock on the dash. "Think we have time before we have to be at the Courthouse?"

"No, we do not. We may not have been able to wait for the wedding this morning, but we can wait for another ninety minutes before further debauchery ensues."

"I don't think anyone's getting their virginity back in that time period," she snarks and he snorts. 

"Not the point."

"You just want all our future debauchery to be the married kind." She glances at him again, still smiling, and he's nearly overwhelmed by the swell of happiness that he feels in his chest. "Hey, I've got a spare set of handcuffs in the pocket behind my seat. Grab 'em for us, 'kay?"

"I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that your favorite role-playing is always cops and robbers, but okay." He tips his seat back slightly so he can see into the pocket on the back of her seat. She's been known to stash really weird stuff back there, so he prefers to not grope blindly. 

"Yours is pirate and wench and I don't make fun of that. What's wrong with the cop and a criminal?"

"Nothing really, but I let you be the pirate at least half the time, and you're always the cop." He starts to pull books and papers and other assorted junk out of the overstuffed pocket.

"You have so much more experience in the criminal role," she teases and he leans forward again to glare at her. 

"All set-ups," he says in an offended voice and she laughs.

"Uh huh." 

He finally manages to snag the handcuffs as she parks the car across from the apartment and he drops them into her lap, then starts to load the junk back into the pocket. When it's all back in place, he grabs the strap of the nylon backpack stashed behind her seat. "When did you start carrying a backpack? I've never seen you with anything but the messenger bag." He hauls the bag forward and sets it on the console between them. "Is it your Dad's?"

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. "No. That's Penn's bag. He insisted on bringing it this morning." She gasps. "He was saying some stuff before they took him away...said something like, _if I was around. W_hat if there's another bomb in here?" She starts to unzip the bag but Logan stops her. 

"Veronica, don't." He moves her hand from the bag, then starts to unzip it himself.

"Logan, no."

"Look, this is kinda my job," he says in a firm voice. "Now get across the street and be ready to call for help if I tell you." _Or if I blow up,_ he thinks, but doesn't say. 

"Logan—"

"Veronica, go!" His tone is apparently commanding enough because she finally opens her door and slides out, but she doesn't walk away like he wants. He shakes his head, but doesn't want to waste more time so he unzips the top pocket the rest of the way and reaches inside, pulling a sweatshirt out, and revealing...

"Looks like an incendiary device," he says. "On a timer that appears to suggest there are two hours, twenty-three minutes, and forty-nine, forty-eight, forty-seven seconds left before detonation." He places the sweatshirt on the seat and looks at Veronica. "Close your door and get across the street." She raises her eyebrows at him and doesn't budge. "I'll be right behind you; stop being obstinate." 

He turns toward his door and exits, closing it carefully behind him. Veronica is still standing next to the car when he makes his way around it, so he pulls her away, shuts her door, and leads her across the street to stand behind the staircase leading up to their apartment. Once he's got a fair amount of distance between them and the bomb, he tucks Veronica into his side and turns so he's between her and the explosion waiting to happen, then pulls his phone from his pocket.

_ "9-1-1, what's your emergency?" _

"Hi, my name is Logan Echolls, and I need to report a bomb." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s my last of the collection, another story that corrects a very simple fact that even the bare minimum of research in the Writers’ Room should have uncovered. In all the years that we supported Rob Thomas, we always knew he was sloppy, but we still wanted more of the characters that he originated. Now that he’s shown us how little he cares for those characters, it’s fallen to all of us to keep them alive. It’s been difficult to do that since July 19, but this project has been helpful for all of us and we hope that it has been for you as well. I’m not sure Veronica Mars will ever be the source of joy that it used to be, for me at least, but I’m hopeful that it will become easier to think about the real Veronica, a marshmallow at heart, and all the people who love her and are loved by her, with less bitterness. We need to do that, or Rob wins his miserable bet after all. 
> 
> We have been so grateful for the support that’s been shown by the VM community for our little project that we want to find a way to express that. The sheer number of comments from everyone has been overwhelming, in the best way possible. We’ve talked about different possibilities to reward the people who took the time to comment on every chapter, with thoughts that include sharing the collection artwork in a variety of ways, or even with another story. We’re still finalizing our plans on the rewards, but if you want in on whatever we come up with, we’ll give you through the end of December to comment on all 36 chapters before we do a final count and see who is in. That way, we can start 2020 off on the right foot with another reminder that ‘Logan Lives’.


	35. The One Where They Bang by EllieBear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You really didn't think I would do this without contributing some explicit smut, did you?

"Congratulations, Pony! You're not a bastard anymore!" Veronica drops to her knees at the front door, tousling Pony's ears and rubbing her head. "Yes, baby, mommy and daddy finally got married. Yes, we did! Yes, we did!"

Logan sweeps past her, chuckling. "Now that Doberman at the dog park will stop bullying her about her broken home."

Releasing Pony, Veronica stands and wipes the dog slobber off her hands onto her wedding dress. Glancing down at the dog hair now covering the white skirt, she frowns. 

"Good thing I only paid fifty-bucks for this thing."

"I'm sure you could have spent more on it if you really wanted." Logan drops his keys on the counter and sidles over to her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulls her gently towards him, kissing the tip of her nose.

"Please, you're lucky I didn't show up in my leather jacket and jean skirt." Draping her arms around his neck, she rises on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips. "Besides, after the things I let you do to me after your last six-month flight-assignment a few years ago, any ability to wear virginal white down the aisle was off the table."

Logan purses his lips, his eyes narrowing and the corners of his mouth slowly turning upwards at the mention of one of their most notorious reunions. His hands lower to cup her ass, and he pulls her flush against him, sending a wave of heat through her body. Brushing his lips along her jaw, he pauses near her ear.

"I do remember, vaguely, how much you enjoyed having me play with your ass." Dropping his mouth to the crook of her neck, he sucks the delicate skin, and she moans. "Maybe we should do that again on our honeymoon? What do you say? Is that what my new wife would like me to do to her?"

Veronica's eyes flutter at the memory, a rush of wetness between her thighs as she digs her fingernails into Logan's suit jacket. Slowly, he inches her skirt up the back of her legs until he finds the edge of her white lace panties, slipping his hands underneath to grasp her buttocks again, squeezing hard.

"Lo-gan," Veronica's voice strains as he kneads her ass. "We need to pack."

He nips at her neck and she gasps, her knees shaking, threatening to give out completely. God, he knows exactly what to say and do to get her riled up. She presses her body against his, feeling her hard nipples against his chest through her dress.

"Nope. No packing yet," he murmurs, his lips vibrating against her skin as he drags them up along her neck, across her cheek, until he's staring into her eyes once more. "Call me old fashioned, but my feeling is that we need to _ consummate _ the marriage to make sure it's official."

"Well, how very biblical misogynist of you." Veronica arches her eyebrow at him, smirking. 

Her smirk turns to a gasp as his hand slips further to her center, finding her soft core with the pad of his middle finger. Her body clenches as his fingers slide deep inside her and he works her quickly, the thick sound of wetness filling the room. She’s on the edge, ready to topple, when he stops suddenly, pulling his fingers out of her as she moans at the loss of friction.

“I wouldn’t want anyone to show up at our door with pizza, laying claim to you.” He pins her with a knowing look, then lifts his wet finger to his mouth. Her eyes grow wide as she watches him suck her juices from his skin, before the implication of his words registers in her brain.

_ Shit. _

Her stomach twists with regret as sincere as it did that night she dreamt about Leo. "He means nothing to me," she finds herself saying out loud.

The corner of his mouth twitches into a wry smile, his eyebrow quirking in silent question of her words. “He doesn’t? Well, that’s good, because I have to tell you, even though I do trust _ you_, there was still a little doubt in the back of my mind about what went on when I was called away on that last assignment.”

Returning his hand under her dress, Logan hooks his thumbs along the edge of her panties, pulling them down slowly until they drop at her feet. She shivers as he slides his hands free and lets the skirt fall over her exposed buttocks. He draws his hands slowly up her sides, then reaches for her zipper. He pauses for a second, his eyes locked with hers, before slowly dragging the zipper down her back, trailing his knuckle along her spine.

“I’ve always been faithful to you, Veronica. Always. No matter what temptation crossed my way during my missions.” When the zipper hits the end, he ghosts his fingers up her back and even the light touch feels like ten matchsticks striking her skin, setting her ablaze. “I’ve always come home to make love to you.”

His voice is thick, heavy with emotion, and she closes her eyes against the intensity of his stare. She knows she’s accused him of such things in the past—infidelities that never happened—playing out her own worst scenarios in her head while Logan was gone, only to be the recipient of his joyful return to her bed, and right now she wants to hide her own mental infidelities, wishing she could just erase them from her mind. 

Logan's fingers move around her collar bone and the shock of his hands suddenly so close to her neck makes her open her eyes once more. Slowly, he shifts her dress off her shoulders, and she drops her arms to the side, allowing the dress to fall to her feet. Standing there, naked except for her chunky heels and white lace bra, gives Veronica a thrilling feeling of being all at once exposed and yet surprisingly in control, knowing how Logan enjoyed her this way. Stepping out of her dress and away from him, she pushes her shoulders back, strutting wordlessly towards the bedroom.

She can hear him follow, and she reaches around behind her back to unhook her bra, tossing it on the ground as she enters the bedroom, pausing at the foot of the bed to allow him to catch up. The door shuts behind them, and all the hairs on her body stand on end as she waits, her breathing heavy and anxious. 

Logan presses his body against her back, and she moans, turning her head to the side to see his reflection in their dresser mirror - him still in his full suit and her naked form nearly obscured by his bulk.

"Touch me. Please, Logan." 

Reaching for his hand, she guides it to the soft mound of hair between her legs, and she groans as he cups her, his warm hand gently massaging her skin. Taking his other hand, she places it on her breast, and he takes her hard nipple between his forefinger and thumb, pinching it just rough enough to send a wave of pain and pleasure through her and causing her to call out in ecstasy. Her hips buck against his hand, and he obliges her demand, reaching between her folds to pinch her clit, stroking it back and forth as she cries out again. 

"Yes, just like that, Logan." His lips find her neck again, and she closes her eyes, allowing him to work her body like only he knows how. 

Her knees buckle as her orgasm builds, and she reaches behind her to grasp his hips, pulling him closer, rolling her body against his. She can feel his cock, hard against her ass through his pants, and her mind drifts back to him burying himself inside her tight opening for the first time as she screamed with pleasure and pain, grasping the blankets on their bed as he worked her into a sexual frenzy. 

"Only you…" she gasps, her body vibrating in his grasp as she inches closer to release. "Only you can do this to me, Logan. Only you…."

Suddenly he releases her, stepping back and removing his hands, causing her to crumble, leaning against the edge of the bed to keep herself off the ground.

"On your back," he orders, fumbling with his jacket.

She licks her lips at the thought of what’s coming next, then turns to watch him. "Only if you keep the suit on…" she replies, a devilish grin spreading across her face.

Shrugging the jacket back on his shoulders, Logan matches her smile, his eyes darkening as she climbs onto the bed, pressing her white high-heel mules to the mattress, her knees spread wide in invitation to him. Reaching down, she spreads her lips for him, showing him just how wet he’s made her. Unzipping his fly, he pushes his underwear down past his hard cock, taking it in hand and stroking it as his gaze follows her body, his eyes stopping at her spread fingers.

He kneels on the bed, his head ducking down to quickly pass his tongue through her wetness and she arches, tossing her head back. She’s disappointed for just a moment when he doesn't linger, but instead moves up her body to catch her mouth with his, and she groans as his tongue sweeps in, finding hers. She drops back into the pillows, pulling him with her to keep the connection. She feels him line his cock up with her before thrusting hard, causing her to gasp as he slides easily into her. 

Their kiss broken, she presses her forehead against his, her legs locking around him as they pause, both breathing hard as they hold their position. Her tongue darts out, the tip flicking his closed lips.

"Fuck me, husband. Claim me. I'm yours now...forever."

Despite her fierce words, she’s gentle as she presses her lips to his again, a light touch before parting and allowing his tongue to enter. His hips roll against hers, their connection becoming deeper, more intense, and she gasps under his mouth as their eyes connect. At that moment, she knows that she means it; Veronica wants him to claim her—wants to be his forever. This was how it was supposed to be from the beginning, and only now, while locked together with him in this way, can she accept that. Up until now, she never genuinely believed she deserved to be loved the way he loved her. But he’s passed—passed all her tests. Nine years of silence and he finally came to find her. Five years more of laughing and making love and puppies and arguing and aching when they were apart. And now…now she could fully commit herself to him in a way she’d never thought possible.

Curling up into him, her chest presses against his and she feels his heart beat. It’s all so real...so clear. She’d been a self-destructive fool to consider anything with anyone else. It was Logan—it was always Logan. He wasn't just her partner; he was a part of her. 

Tears spring to her eyes and she blinks rapidly, trying to contain her emotions. But she cannot hide, not anymore, and when he catches her watery eyes, his face softens and his eyes close as he again presses his forehead to hers. She reaches up to grasp his head, holding him close to her.

"I love you. I love you so much, Logan."

"I love you, Veronica," he replies, and she sees the tears brimming on his lashes as well.

His thrusts slow to a gentle roll, sliding in and out of her patiently, drawing out their initial enthusiasm to enjoy just being together. She closes her eyes, focusing on the waves of pleasure coursing through her. She wishes they could do this for hours, have him with her and in her and everything else could fall away. Slowly, in Logan's embrace, she feels the stress of the past few days washing away with every move.

A beeping sound beside her head makes her eyes pop open, and she pulls her focus to his hand braced against the mattress. His watch beeps a few more times, in time with a blinking light, and giggling, she reaches over and switches it off.

"We have to move the car."

Kissing her, he laughs, increasing the speed of his thrusts. "There's no way in fucking hell I'm moving that car right now. Let them tow us—I'll ride us on my bike to Sedona."

Veronica is about to protest when he shifts, bringing one of her legs between his and locking her other leg around his waist in a move she knows that he knows will make her come quickly. 

"Biking sounds good. Healthy," she gasps and her eyes roll back as she gives in to the sensation of his cock rocking past her clit.

His body starts to shake above her, and she knows he's close to coming, holding off to allow her time to come first. Grabbing the collar of his suit, she bucks up into him, demanding he work her harder, and he obliges, moving faster and faster until she was brimming on the edge.

"Logan…Logan…Oh, God…"

"Veronica…fuck…I can't hold on…"

There was a flash of white light behind her eyelids as she screams, her orgasm washing over her as she feels Logan pulse along with her, his cum filling her as he lets out a deep moan of satisfaction. But then, there's a second flash, a loud explosion that vibrates the room, and she opens her eyes to see the glass blow out of their windows.

Logan's body drops directly on top of her, knocking the wind out of her as he covers them both. For a second, they stay unmoving, fused by sex and terror. 

"Logan?" she asks hesitantly.

Slowly, he rises away from her, pulling out of her as he stays on all fours. "Be careful. I have glass all over my back."

She slides out from under him, carefully avoiding debris as she moves off the bed. She glances around the room and spies one of his old t-shirts that she grabs and throws on to cover her naked body. Her wide eyes run down Logan's back, coated in bits of paint, wood, and glass. It takes her a second to comprehend there is blood on his ass cheek.

"You're bleeding! Don't move."

"I'm partially naked in a bed full of glass. Don't worry—I'm not going anywhere."

Running to the bathroom, Veronica grabs a towel and rushes back to the bedroom. Coming around the side of the blast, she looks down at the glass crunching under her shoes. 

"Good thing I kept the heels on," she mutters, steeling herself as she leans over to pull a fairly substantial piece of glass from Logan's butt cheek. 

Letting out a hiss of pain, he cringes, looking back at her. "I think I know where Penn left the last bomb."

Silence fills the room as Veronica contemplates the ramifications if they hadn't been too busy having sex to move the car. Pressing the towel against Logan’s wound, she clenches her teeth in empathetic pain for her husband. 

"Oh, God…" Her stomach turns, and she resists the urge to sit down on the edge of the glass-filled bed. "We could have been…you could have been…"

"Note to self: orgasms save lives." He winks at her playfully. "But apparently they do not save my ass. I think we'll be spending our honeymoon getting me stitches."

In spite of herself, Veronica chuckles. If this was the start of their marriage, she wonders what else they’re in for, now that they’re husband and wife.

"So...looks like I'm riding on the handlebars of your bike all the way to Sedona after all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my last fic for the collection so I'd like to take a second to throw around some gratitude. 
> 
> First, thank you to Jmazzy for her strikingly beautiful artwork and for being a wonderful "muse". 
> 
> Huge, massive, copious amounts of appreciation and writer awe to the fandom-girl gang of KMD0107, MarshmallowBobcat, Chickabiddy, Cubbiegirl1723, and CattyK8 for being so excited to join us on this adventure and being such awesome friends to talk to every day.
> 
> Thank you to Irma66 and MrsKissyT - my original "coven" sisters - for their hard work on this project. May everyone be blessed enough to find their fandom soul-mates, as I did with these two friends. I truly love you both and I'm so happy we all decided to follow this crazy idea.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos and helped keep us inspired and motivated through the project. You are all magnificent humans to share your encouraging words with us and I have loved reading all the glorious things you have said about all our fics.
> 
> And to Rob Thomas. Not really a "thank you" so much as a "wish." I hope that one night, at 2:00 am, when you are Googling your name in a dark room, you find this collection and realize that even though you tried to break the "fangirls" in this fandom, that we came back stronger, not because we were left on our own to struggle and wallow in pain you caused, but because we banded together to work with our friends and loved ones to create something pure and beautiful out of love, not hate. You had that opportunity, to put something good in the world, and you didn't. So in the end, it was you that ended up like Veronica, not us.


	36. The One Where Logan Lives by MrsKissyT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the last 35 days, we’ve been finding ways to keep Logan alive. Some were about avoiding the bomb going off altogether, or changing the timing. or fanciful ways to undo the bombing aftermath. We’ve even had some where the bomb did happen, with a realistic outcome (short of death), and there wasn’t any ‘undoing’ possible, just getting through. If it really was necessary to put Logan in harm’s way, on his wedding day no less, then there had to be a way to make it less...awful.
> 
> Day 36 is one of those. The bomb went off, but Logan didn’t die. He is laid up in a hospital, recovering from his injuries, and LoVe (and everyone else) has to live with the consequences. When there is still hope, and Neptune as we know it isn’t gone, what would life be like for our OTP if Logan just…lived?

The _ beep beep beep _of the heart monitor was the only thing keeping Veronica sane. 

It was hard enough watching Logan sleeping in the hospital bed next to her, knowing that under his hospital gown, second-degree burn marks covered his back, arms and legs. The doctors had told her with hyperbaric therapy, his wounds would slowly heal, but the scars would be long-lasting, possibly permanent. At least as his spouse, she was privy to the medical information that she wouldn't have been if they hadn’t married right before the explosion—the _ only _ thing she’d done right that day _ . _

Scooting the chair closer to the bed, she reached for Logan's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Her eyes roamed over his face, the beard he'd grown while in the hospital was getting a little out of control. She'd asked him if he wanted her to clean it up, but he'd declined, telling her one of the perks of being injured was not feeling obligated to look presentable every day.

Rubbing her thumb across his knuckles, she thought about that day four weeks ago, and how what _should_ _have_ been the happiest day of her life turned into the most terrifying one. 

She’d struggled to her feet after being thrown onto their bed by the blast.he’d raced downstairs, screaming Logan’s name when she saw him sprawled on his stomach several feet away from the burning car. 

When she'd reached him, she gathered his body into her arms, and with strength she didn't know she possessed, she’d dragged him another ten feet away from the wreckage before collapsing in tears. The rest of the day was a blur. She'd found out later that one of the police officers had to pry her away from Logan when the EMTs tried to load him onto a stretcher.

He later explained that he'd grabbed the wrong keys and was headed back to the apartment when the bomb went off. He joked that he was the "luckiest son of a bitch" in Neptune, having thwarted more than his fair share of disasters.

He couldn’t actually remember the moment that the bomb went off, or anything for the first couple of days after. Veronica, on the other hand, couldn’t forget. She continued to live that day over and over again. She wondered if it would ever stop. 

What had she been _ thinking_, not checking the god damned back seat after Penn had been arrested at Kane High? Logan coming home the night before had been a godsend, but she was still so wrapped up with guilt over Leo, and solving the case that she’d left her blinders on and hadn’t even thought to be more careful around Penn. She’d been reckless and stupid, and once again, someone else—_Logan_—had paid the price. 

“Well, if it isn’t my biggest fan, _ Veronica Mars, _ in the flesh.”

Groaning that alone time with her husband was over, she turned towards the door.

“Dick,” she sighed.

“Wow, really not feelin’ the love there, Ronnikins. Thought you were supposed to be nicer to me now. Logan’s wishes and all.”

She rolled her eyes. “For you, that _ is _ nice.” 

“Noted,” he nodded, crossing the room to the empty couch along the wall. “He been awake yet today?” 

“Earlier, yeah. He had physical therapy this morning, did really well. They’re hoping he can be transferred to the rehab center in San Diego by the end of next week.” 

She’d prefer it if he could just come home. 

He nodded, effectively ending their conversation and the two sat in silence, Dick rapidly texting on his phone, Veronica trying her hardest to stay awake. 

Ten minutes later, she had finally decided a power nap was needed and lay her head next to Logan’s hand, waking when she felt him shifting in the bed. Dick must have noticed as well, and he was on his feet and at Logan's bedside in seconds.

Logan’s eyes fluttered open and she waited for him to fully wake before squeezing his hand. 

"Hey," she smiled.

"Hey yourself," he said, clearing his throat. Dick shifted next to him, and Logan extended his arm slowly, hitting his friend’s knuckles with his own. "Hey, man."

“Waves aren’t the same out there without ya, bro. Hurry up and get better so we can hit some, yeah? It ain’t summer without a trip to Kona,” he said, pulling up an empty chair and plopping down next to him. 

Dick’s presence would have bothered Veronica more, had he not recently lost the last member of his family. Spending time in Logan’s hospital room had become Dick’s new normal—and Veronica’s too. Her own personal issues with him aside, Dick’s friendship was important to Logan, and she couldn’t deny him that.

"How long have you been two been here?" Logan asked, wincing as he moved around in the bed. 

Veronica took a step closer to make sure he was OK. He hated the hovering, but she couldn't help herself. She'd almost lost him and was terrified it could happen again.

“Dick just got here a little while ago, ” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. She wasn’t about to admit to him how long she’d actually been there. 

Unfortunately for her, Logan knew exactly what she was trying to avoid, and gave her a skeptical look. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” 

“How long have you been here?” he pressed. Damn him for having her pegged. 

She rolled her eyes. “A while, it’s fine.” she waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

Logan frowned. “Veronica.”

“OK, fine! I haven’t been home since yesterday,” she said petulantly. 

His features softened at her flustered response. He knew she always felt uneasy leaving him.

"Hey," he said, running his hand down her arm. "Dick's here. I'll be fine. You threatened to, what was it? 'Destroy their lives' if they didn't call you if something happened. I think they're scared of your wrath," he teased.

“Daymn, Ronnie. Remind me not to get on your bad side.” 

Logan laughed. “Pretty sure you’ve got a permanent place there, big guy,” he reminded him.

“Whatever.” He waved them both off with his hand. “Everyone comes around for Dick eventually.” 

Veronica mimicked gagging before giving Logan’s hand another squeeze. She wanted a moment alone with her husband before heading out. “Think we could have the room for a minute?” she asked. 

Logan gave her a wink before turning to Dick. “Hey, man, that nurse you like is working today. Could you go find her and bring me back some ice?”

Dick’s interest was immediately piqued, his eyes widening as he smoothed out his hair. “Ms. Atomic Blonde? Aw yeah, that one has a nice—”

“Dick!” Veronica scolded.

“_Bedside manner, _” he enunciated. “God, Veronica. Mind outta the gutter!”

“You are _ un_believable,” she grumbled.

“And by that, you mean, _ unbelievably _ awesome. I know. And that lady nurse is about to find out just how much. Be right back,” he said, waggling his eyebrows before leaving the room. 

Veronica scoffed and shook her head, turning back to Logan. “Remind me again why you’re friends with him?”

He chuckled, giving her a shrug. “So, what did you not want Dick to hear?”

Veronica chewed her lower lip nervously, contemplating where to start. There were a lot of things she knew she _ should _ say, but admitting to her multitude of blunders over the past months wasn’t something she was prepared to do. Anyway, their alone time was limited and there were more pressing things to discuss. 

“Well, the landlord says the city’s condemning the building. Too much damage along the backside, asbestos, faulty wiring. It’s no wonder now, why the rent was so cheap.” 

“Are you gonna move in with your Dad? His house would be great for me when I get out. Those stairs would have been a bitch.”

“Actually, I was thinking of looking at houses...”

Logan’s eyes lit up. “Yeah? To rent? Or…” Veronica gave him a sweet smile in response. “Smiley face keys? Monogrammed door mats?”

“Casa de Mars-Echolls,” she said, mimicking a banner with her arms. She shrugged. “Somewhere I can bring you home to. Nothing fancy…”

“Gated community. Yard big enough for Pony.” 

“Maybe not in Neptune…” Veronica mumbled, meeting his stare with intent. She wasn’t surprised at the shock she saw flash across his face. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it. I’ve had some time, ya know, to sit and think. My dad thinks I should take a step back, but…” she hesitated.

“It’s a mad, mad, mad, mad world?” Logan said, with a smile. He always understood, and she loved that about him. 

“Something like that,” she sighed. “I’ve been back now for almost six years, and nothing has really changed. I’m not sure I can do much for Neptune anymore.”

“Would you give up investigating?”

She shook her head. “No, but maybe we could expand the business. Take cases out of town. We haven’t been on a road trip yet.”

“We?”

“Yeah, as in you, me. A new car…” she scoffed. 

“Detecting?” 

“Among other things.” They both laughed. “I wouldn’t expect you to come with me _ all _ the time, but it could be fun.”

“I would go anywhere you asked me to,” Logan said, lifting her hand to his lips, wincing slightly at the movement. “And if I couldn’t, I’d make sure there was dinner on the table when you came home.” 

She nodded in agreement. “I’d expect nothing less,” she joked. 

Feeling slightly better than she had earlier, Veronica slowly ran a hand through Logan’s hair, then cupped his cheek. The stark realization that had things been different, he might not even be around to fuss over, hit her like a ton of bricks. It would have been entirely her fault, _ everything _ that had happened had been her fault; she wasn’t sure if she’d ever forgive herself. She _ hoped _ Logan would.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours? You’re frowning.”

Veronica’s eyes roamed across his face. “I am _ so sorry_, Logan,” she whispered. “I should have figured it out. I should have known better. Checking the back seat is investigation 101. I’m sorry—”

“Veronica,” he cut her off. “Stop apologizing. Can’t we just...move on?” His eyes pleaded with her to drop it, so she nodded, and he smiled in gratitude. “Call Wallace, get the name of his realtor. We can talk about it more later.”

“OK. I’ve got to go get Pony from his house anyway. I’ll ask him then.” He kissed her palm before she pulled away, taking her shoulder bag off the back of the chair and slipping it over her shoulder. 

“My dudes!” 

They both looked up as Dick sauntered back into the room, flapping a piece of paper between his fingers before slamming down an ice carafe onto Logan’s hospital table. 

“Guess who’s getting some later!” he boomed. It made Veronica want to hurl.

“And on that note, I’m leaving,” Veronica said. She leaned over and gave Logan a soft kiss. “I’ll be back this afternoon. Don’t go anywhere, Echolls-Mars.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” Logan quipped, giving her a wink.

“Me neither!” Dick joked, mouthing a ‘what?’ to Logan when he shook his head.

“Bye, boys,” she said, giving them both a quick wave as she walked out of the room. 

She made it to the elevator before realizing she’d left her jacket and she doubled back, stopping when she heard their low voices in the room. Standing to the side of the opened doorway, she listened. 

“We’ll have to hit up the Kona Coast when you get released.” She shook her head at Dick’s lack of common sense. Logan wasn’t going anywhere like that with him for a _ long _ time. 

“Dude, I’m not exactly surf-ready, and we haven’t even gone on our honeymoon yet. I’m not going anywhere with _ you _ until that happens.”

“Whoa, can’t deprive ya of that. This guy never stands in the way of a lay. Little Ronnie’s been more uptight than usual with you in here; she definitely needs some Logan lovin’. Bow-chicka-bow-wow.”

“Dude, _ shut up_. Quit talking about my _ wife _ like that.” She could hear the warning in his voice. 

Veronica rolled her eyes at Dick’s huff of aggravation. “Whatever, man. I’m just lucky Ronnie’s willing to share you sometimes at least. It’s a good thing you didn’t get all the way blown up. Who’d I hang with then?”

“Yeah, that’d be tough for you.” Logan’s droll tone made Veronica shake her head as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Dick’s total lack of self-awareness, or really _ any _ awareness, was mind-boggling. “I’m glad I could stay alive so you wouldn’t have to go to the movies by yourself.”

“Well, yuh. I can’t eat the whole tub of popcorn by myself. I’m a movie star now. Gotta watch my figure.”

“I guess my continued existence is quite providential then. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for you getting snack food love handles.”

“Hey!” The sudden vehemence in Dick’s voice was startling. “Don’t be like that. You know that’s not the only thing, right? I love ya, man. I need you around. No one cares about me like you do. Even when my dad was alive, and here in Neptune, I always knew you were the only one I could really count on.” 

"Yeah," Logan sighed.

Dick paused. “But now what do I do? Ronnie’s got you locked down for good, the bro code is kaput, man. You’ve got this family now. I’m happy for ya, buddy, but it’s always been you and me. Now I’ve got no one. My dad was murdered. My little brother offed himself, and the last stepmom I had is probably six feet under somewhere, too. My family is cursed apparently."

He huffed. “At least this trauma gets me access to the better weed.”

Veronica sighed softly. She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel a little guilty about Big Dick's fate. Her investigation led to his demise — one more thing to add to her red Casablancas ledger.

There was a short pause before Logan started again. “It’s gonna be okay, man. Me getting married won’t change too much. We’ll still hang out,” he reassured. She heard him clear his throat. “Hey, you call your therapist yet?”

"Yeah, he said I should start writing out my own thoughts about death since everyone in my family has croaked." Veronica could hear when Dick dropped onto the couch again.

"Whatever helps, man."

“Yeah.”

Hearing Logan encouraging therapy made her feel guilty all over again. Another thing she’d chided him for. Another thing he’d been right about. She really did need help. God, she’d been _ such _ an asshole. There was so much shit she’d screwed up...between them...with her Dad, and with Wallace. She wasn’t sure where she’d gone wrong, but knew she desperately needed to change. It was time to reevaluate everything she’d done over the last year, and try to rectify what damage her actions had caused. 

Dick speaking her name caught her attention again. “Married to Veronica Mars. It’s unreal, man. _ Never _ thought I’d see the day.”

“You’re telling me.”

“It’s gonna be hard, bro.”

“It wouldn’t be us if it wasn’t. I’ve got everything I need now. I’m ready to put all this shit behind me, and get on with my life with Veronica. Live it, you know?.”

“Yeah, I get that.” he paused. “She’s really it for ya, huh?”

“Yep.”

Dick cleared his throat. “OK, man,” he said. The acceptance in his voice was irrefutable.

“OK.”

Not that she needed, or even wanted, his approval, but Veronica felt oddly touched that Dick didn’t lay into Logan about marrying her. Maybe there was hope for the big dope after all. Deciding she could forget the jacket, she pushed off the wall and headed towards the elevators, catching the end of their conversation.

“God, I can’t wait to get the fuck outta here,” Logan grumbled.

"Quit yer bitching, man. At least you're _ alive_.”

“Yeah, dude, you’re right. I _ am. _”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words cannot express how honored I've felt to be in the company of these amazing women. Their words inspire us all, and are what makes this fandom so special. I admit it was a struggle to write for season 4. After it aired, I wasn't sure I could ever write for this fandom again. Participating in this collection has reminded me why I began writing for it in the first place. These characters, their stories and the joy they've brought me is irreplaceable. They will forever hold a special place in my heart. 
> 
> Special thanks to Jmazzy (my soul sister in music) for our amazing playlist and covers! I can't wait to print them all and frame them on my wall. My children will be so confused! :P KMD, MMB, Cubbie, CattyK8 and Chikkabiddy - I am so happy you agreed to participate in this collection. I was floored by your contributions!! It's been a blast getting to know each of you better! Ellie, my amazing friend, thank you for posting and promoting our work every day, in every way. Your personal encouragement, compassion and pep talks keep me sane, and I love you! Irma66 - our curator, butt kicker, beta extraordinaire, my OG and ESPN counterpart and very dear friend - thank you for your motivation, support and incredible amount of time you've put into this project. It never would have happened if it wasn't for your spreadsheet. QUEEN!
> 
> And to you, our readers. Your encouragement, comments, kudos and willingness to read something that may very well have been hard for you. THANK YOU. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. From the bottom of my heart, your support has been overwhelming and I love you for it. WE love you for it! It's up to us, the fans - new, old, casual and the like - to keep them ALIVE. Fan fiction is incredibly important. I know it's allowed me to heal from the blow, and I sincerely hope it can help to repair our severed fandom someday. Continue to support content creators. Participate in fic recs. Reblog Sunday Six's, Fic Asks, and Story Updates. We CANNOT let one world class a-hole ruin our fandom experience. Don't let him win.
> 
> Veronica Mars, Logan Echolls and the entire VM Universe is OURS. 
> 
> Make sure to visit the Logan Lives series link for more information about what's coming next!! <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Devil Saves the Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21635173) by [cattyk8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattyk8/pseuds/cattyk8)
  * [(Covers) The Ones Where Logan Lives](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24996388) by [VeronicaMarsFanArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaMarsFanArt/pseuds/VeronicaMarsFanArt)


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